Event Horizon Book 2 & 3: Beautiful Horizon
by Spartan-168-Django
Summary: Two worlds, two universes, once divided, now united, for better or worse. The Event Horizon series continues as space explorers from future Earth arrive in Middle Earth and on Warhammer World, but the forces of darkness and ruin are gathering in strength. Will these newcomers be able to turn the tide and save these worlds from oblivion, or will they too fall to its corruption?
1. Captain Raskalnikova

_**Foreword:** ladies and gentlemen! Here continues the tale that began in Event Horizon Book 1: Autumn's Frontier, a reading of which is highly recommended in order to understand the universe within which this story takes place. But I will briefly recap where we left things off last time. It's the year 2154, and a joint colonization mission to the Epsilon Eridani Star System between the United Nations and The Company™ (Earth's largest and most powerful mega-corporation) has discovered four planets (designated EE-L0, L3, L4, and L5) that are inhabited by different fantasy races! In Book1, we followed the adventures of The Company™'s new colony of Autumn's Frontier on "Planet EE-L4" (Westeros). Here in Books 2 & 3 (published simultaneously), we follow the events on "Planet EE-L5" (Middle Earth) and "Planet EE-L0" (the World of Warhammer Fantasy, not 40k) that are occurring over the same period of time. Prepare thyself, fair reader, for the adventure about to unfold..._

 _ **Acknowledgements** : I would like to take a moment to briefly thank all those who have taken their time to read and support this story, whether through inspiration, inputting creative ideas and suggestions, proofreading, or simply leaving a review in the reviews section. In particular, I would like to thank the following users at AlternateHistory dot com, the original home of this story: Corsair_Caruso, for his consultation on Tolkienology, as well as ZIM19, RosoMC, Teslacoil, Silver, TheScottishMongol, Ridli_Scott, Rostov, Darksnider05, Monty Burns, terranova210486, berat2beti, iddt3, Panica, ignuus66, Amras89, meichiri, antoine, Trevayne, ComradeH, Wolf1965, and many, many others._

 _ **Disclaimer1** : this is a noncommercial fan work meant as a light-hearted parody and transformative work of the original source material, and thus falling within the parameters of current United States Fair Use Doctrine. Any new characters or places are original creations. _

_**Disclaimer2** : I repeat: this is a work of *parody*, and thus, sarcastic tongue-in-cheek humor, gratuitous pop culture references, unabashed embrace of some TVTropes and complete deconstruction of others, and perhaps the occasional breaking of the Fourth Wall are all to be had in this story. There will be drama and serious moments too, but the general trend of this universe arcs towards the light-hearted. You have been warned!_

 _ **Disclaimer3** : __this series is *different* from canon. Some elements are taken from the books, some from the movies, and some is completely made up_ _. And yes, that means that some aspects of the universe's backstory and mythology *may* be different from canon. I would be highly appreciative if all readers please don't hate me for any deviations I make, but rather try to view my reinterpretation of the setting constructively. Thanks everyone, and I look forward to reading your reviews!_

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 **United Nations Space Vessel U.N.S.V.** ** _Belo Horizonte_** **ISXCT-138  
Epsilon Eridani System  
10.5 lightyears from Earth  
October 01, 2154 C.E.**

"Attention all personnel!" came the monotone voice of the ship's resident A.I. Skippy, thundering throughout the decks and cavernous halls of the _Belo Horizonte_.

"Attention all personnel!" it boomed again, in English, just in case the first one hadn't been enough to shake up the crew from their slumber. "We are beginning our final stage of deceleration to Epsilon Eridani Target Vector 886374. ETA: 33 hours and 17 minutes. You have been in suspended animation for exactly 187 days, 15 hours, and 12 minutes. Some of you may be experiencing dizziness, lethargy, disorientation, headaches, cramping, loss of motor skills, nausea, loss of control of lower abdominal bodily functions, and so on. Do not panic – these symptoms are normal for extended periods of hyper-sleep, and are only temporary. Medical staff and proper facilities will be provided to you shortly. If symptoms persist 24 hours from now, please report to the infirmary level immediately. Otherwise, all personnel report to your stations in t-minus 30 minutes. Welcome to Epsilon Eridani."

" _Blyad'!_ " swore _Kapitan_ Dmetrya "Demya" Romanovna Raskalnikova, Riflewoman Of The Third Cohort, as she clambered out of her cryopod ... and threw up right onto the floor. Her head was spinning, and every muscle in her body ached – though she really couldn't have expected anything less, given that she and the other passengers in this room, as well as the rest of the ship, had all just been thawed out from spending the last six months in cryo.

"Still not used to long haul travel, eh comrade?" laughed the man in the pod next to her on her right, _Ryadovoy_ Arslan Ganzorig, Tech and Communications Specialist.

"Very funny, Aslan," glared Demya. She turned to face the other cryopod to her left. "Sir!" she managed to salute as her superior emerged from within.

"At ease," replied _Leytenant_ Piotr "Rosso" Rasolski, "relax. I think we're all a little flustered after the big sleep. Besides, officially, we're supposed to be _civilians_." He looked up and shouted. "Ike! You there? What's the situation?"

A small holographic orb immediately appeared by his side. "Good morning, Lieutenant Rasolski!" it spoke in a cheerful tone and American accent (yeah, the squad sure had a habit of pulling together folks from all over the place, including an American A.I. Don't ask). Ike continued: "I am pleased to report that all six of our party's organic members are fully functional and suffering no long-term adverse effects of the cryogenic process. Furthermore, our presence aboard this ship has not yet been discovered by the United Nations authorities."

"Good," replied Rosso. He turned to face the others. "You hear that? I hope I don't have to remind you all that The Company™ is paying us good money to keep a low profile. If anyone asks, _officially_ , we're just a 'civilian geological survey team', nothing more. If they ask how we know how to handle guns, that's simple; we've each got a false ID stating we're all ex-members of the Union Of Russian Republics Armed Forces."

"Capital idea, Lieutenant Rasolski," chimed Ike, "now, before we proceed any further, I must warn you all that there has been a significant alteration of the mission parameters that has arisen in the last few weeks that it would perhaps be in your best interests to be appraised of sooner rather than later."

"Oh?" said Rosso.

Ike continued: "Whilst we were en route here and you all were in cryogenic hibernation, myself and one of The Company™'s _Victory_ -class A.I.'s were charged with the constant monitoring of TransLight Communications from their forward probes already within the system. It appears that at least three of the four Earth-like worlds within the Epsilon Eridani System are already inhabited by sapient life-forms."

"Well!" piped up _Ryadovoy_ Tran Kien Vuong "Victor", Rifleman, as he emerged from his own cryopod across the room. "Great, it'll be just like Alpha Centauri all over again. Seems that The Company™ was right to bring us along with the Marines after all, and not just being paranoid."

"So what is it this time, Ike?" asked the big hulking _Ryadovoy_ Pavel Bukakhin, Heavy Weapons Specialist, "more blue-skinned furries for us to shoot up?" He giggled at the thought of it.

"Yes Pavel, you _durak_ , we all know what your idea of 'shootink up the natives' is," muttered Demya under his breath.

"A bold assertion, Private Bukakhin," replied Ike, "though I must correct you on one point: it appears that the indigenous population of the Epsilon Eridani System are not in fact 'blue-skinned furries' as you have suggested, but are actually some form of _H_ _omo sapiens_ – humans, like yourselves."

Demya was quite certain it was the effects of the cryosleep that was making her hear things. "Uh ... excuse me?" she murmured.

But the looks on her fellow comrades' faces confirmed that she wasn't the only one confused or surprised by the news. Rosso scowled. "Hey, Aslan!" he called out, "you're the tech here, I think Ike's glitching again."

"Lieutenant Rasolski, I must insist that I am completely 100% functional," protested Ike, "the Company™'s Heimdallr-03 deep space probe shot this video footage that confirms that the inhabitants of Planets EE-L0, L4, and L5 are, at least externally, biologically indistinguishable from your own species. And while we have yet to validate the presence of any exo-Humans on Planet EE-L3, it stands to reason that whatever forces were responsible for the seeding of _Homo sapiens_ and other Terran zoological and botanical life-forms on L0, L4, and L5 would have likewise have done the same for L3 as well."

For a few minutes, the team gathered around said nothing but stared on in disbelief at the holovideo footage that Ike pulled up and displayed. _What the hell?_ thought Demya to herself, and a quick glance around her confirmed that the rest of her team was seeing the same thing too...

" _Yebat' menya!_ " exclaimed Pavel, "that changes everythink!"

"Not everything," said Rosso, firmly, "who knows? Maybe there's a God after all. Maybe. But the mission stays the same regardless." With that, he reached down into the locker beside his cryopod... and pulled out his trusted Kalashnikov-9A rifle that he kept by his side at all times. He cocked it.

 ** _Kah-clink.  
_**  
Demya knew of course that good ol' Rosso didn't actually mean to discharge an AK inside a spaceship; the cocking was meant more for dramatic purpose and to get everyone's attention...

"Alright little gurls, let's get moving!" commanded the Lieutenant, "it's time to show the Epsilon Eridani System... that the _Arcturus Legion_ has arrived!"

" _URA!_ " cheered the rest of the squad.

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 _ **Footnotes** : the other website features additional background information on The Company™ and the world of 2154 (not posted here on this website due to ... various reasons). However, I will occasionally include some of the relevant background materials in the footnotes to some chapters. The **Arcturus Legion (**_ ** _Арктур Легион_** _ **)** is Earth's largest mercenary company, and a subsidiary of the **Arcturus Corporation (**_ ** _Арктур корпорация_** _ **)** , which is more or less the Russian version of The Company™. In this case, six Arcturus Legionaries and one A.I. have been secretly hired by The Company™ to act as additional security for this mission in addition to the UN Colonial Marines already included. I can imagine that a gang of ruthless Russian mercenaries (and some Polish, Vietnamese, and Kazakh mercs as well) are in for quite a few adventures here in Epsilon Eridani..._

 _ **EDIT** : thank you to my Vietnamese readers out there for correcting the spelling and grammar of Pvt. Vuong's name._

 _Also, to you readers out there who requested it, here's a quick list of the rough translation of Russian used in this chapter. Warning! Strong language..._

 _1\. Blyad'! = Fuck!_

 _2\. Yebat' menya! = Fuck me!_

 _3\. Durak = idiot_

 _4\. Kapitan = Captain_

 _5\. Leytenant = Lieutenant_

 _6\. Ryadovoy = Private_

 _7\. Ura! = Hurrah! (A cheer often stereotypically used in World War Two movies and video games featuring the Soviets. Now, remember that the Arcturus Legion are a private mercenary group, and they recruit members from throughout Earth and the Colonies... but they do have a distinctly "Russian Army IN SPACE!" feel to them...)_


	2. The Life Of JR Von Tolkynen

_**Foreword:** the following is a little in-universe document meant to add some "flavoring" to the wider universe of Event Horizon. Enjoy, and please leave your reviews!_

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 **J.R. Von Tolkynen  
** _From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Date: 10 Oct, 2154._

 _ **See Attachment: Fig.1** : a photograph of young 24-year old J.R. Von Tolkynen in his army uniform in 1916, just prior to the __**Battle Of The Somme**_ _._

 **Johan Roland Von Tolkynen** (03 Jan, 1892 – 02 Sept, 1973), more affectionately known as just "Roland" by his family and fans alike, is best known as the author of _**Der Ring Des Nibelungen**_ ("Ring Of The Nibelung"). He was a professor of Old Germanic languages at **Ludwig Maximilian University** from 1925 to 1945, and of Germanic language and literature, also at LMU, from 1945 to 1959. He was a strongly committed Roman Catholic; indeed, his faith was instrumental in converting his close friend and fellow writer **K.S. Ludwig** , who would later go on to write his own religious-inspired fantasy series, _**Die Chroniken Von Narnien**_. He was also a close friend of pulp science fiction writer **Oswald Spengler** , author of the hit apocalyptic sci-fi adventure series _**Der Untergang Des Abendlandes**_ ("The Decline Of The West"). _  
_

"Roland" was born to a minor branch of an old aristocratic Prussian family in the town of **Tolkynen, East Prussia** (now modern day **Tolkiny, Poland** ). When his parents moved from East Prussia to the more urban and industrialized Western Germany, many fans and literary critics believe that this culture shock influenced the young Tolkynen's later strongly Luddite, anti-industrial, and ultra pro-agrarian views. Other critics disagree, pointing out that his early letters and diary entries actually show a strong favor for cities like **Munich, Bavaria** , and that his later conservative views were informed more by his experiences during **World War I**.

From 1911 to 1915, Tolkynen attended the Ludwig Maximilian University Of Munich, choosing first to major in Classics, but then later switching instead to Germanic Language and Literature. It was there that he first met and fell in love with his future wife, **Edite Maria Von Bratz**. They were formally engaged in 1913. Over the course of their life-long marriage, Tolkynen and Edite had four children: **Johan Franz** (b. 1917), **Michal** (b. 1920), **Christoph** (b. 1924) and **Anna** (b. 1929).

After graduating with a degree in the German Language in 1915, Tolkynen joined the **Imperial German Army** and served as a _Leutnant_ in the 2nd Army. Most notably, Tolkynen served at the **Battle Of The Somme** (01 July to 18 Nov 1916), where he was seriously injured, and most of his friends died in some pretty gruesome ways. He was later discharged from the army due to his injuries, which might just have saved his life. Furthermore, it is a widely accepted fact amongst his fandom that the shell shock and trauma that Tolkynen suffered because of this experience would shape the rest of his personal beliefs, political views, and, of course, his writing. Indeed, it was during this time that Tolkynen began writing, working first as an editor and consultant for his good friend, Oswald Spengler, whose seminal apocalyptic sci-fi series _Decline Of The West_ launched in 1918.

It was during the Roaring Twenties that Tolkynen was to publish his most famous work, the _Rings Of Nibelung_ trilogy, which was inspired heavily by the Old Germanic poem, the _**Nibelunglied**_. Unlike Richard Wagner's famous operatic adaptation of the myth, Tolkynen tried to emulate the original much more closely. Eventually, he decided "screw it!" and just rewrote the whole damn thing to be its own unique thing, different from both the original myth and the opera, as well as injecting his own ideas and personal beliefs such as his devoutly Catholic faith, as well as his strong anti-industrialism views.

For example, in both the original myth and in Wagner's adaptation, the _**Götterdämmerung**_ ("Twilight Of The Gods") is supposed to symbolize the cataclysmic fall of the Gods and the beginning of the current godless and terrible age in which we all now live. In Tolkynen's world, instead, Ragnarok is actually presented as a more bittersweet occasion: the old Gods still fall and perish, but in their place, a new god arises (meant to represent Christianity), and thus, after the great tumult and cataclysm that tears the old world asunder, the universe, both material and celestial alike, experiences a joyous rebirth into a new age of peace, love, hope, and supremacy of the Nordic race.

The first Book of the _Rings Of Nibelung_ trilogy was released in 1925 to roaring commercial success and critical acclaim. The two subsequent installments in the series were released in 1926 and 1927, respectively, and have since become known as both literary hallmarks of the Weimar cultural renaissance of the 1920's, and masterpieces of world literature in general, despite their otherwise highly controversial racial and anti-Semitic undertones.

Indeed, during this time, one such huge fan of Tolkynen's works was an obscure Austrian artist named **Adolf Hitler** who would later enter politics with rather predictable consequences for everyone. Indeed, Hitler had such a huge raging fangirl boner for Tolkynen's works that he would often write his own fanfiction, and would even use quotes directly taken from the books in many of his speeches, sometimes using the word " **Ork** " in reference to the Soviets and other peoples he deemed to be subhuman.

Tolkynen's relationship with the Nazi Regime was a strained one. Tolkynen himself was famously opposed to Hitler, and while he had been, much like his friend and fellow fantasy write Oswald Spengler, enormously critical of the **Weimar Republic** and of democracy and liberalism, he nevertheless championed a return to the "the Old Ways", and was an adamant supporter of the Kaiser, of imperial monarchy, and of the old landed aristocracy. Even throughout the war, Tolkynen was vocal in his criticism of the Nazi Party, but was largely spared from persecution because the Nazis were such huge fans of his works. Indeed, Tolkynen would later use his connections and influence to save three Jewish families from persecution during the wartime years – a feat made all the more touching and poignant by the fact that Tolkynen himself had harbored anti-Semitic views for most of his life beforehand, but even he was horrified at the treatment of Jews and other persecuted minorities in the Third Reich.

The first attempt at a film adaptation of _Rings Of Nibelung_ was the canceled project by UFA. Production was slated to begin in 1928 and was to be directed by husband-wife team **Fritz Lang** and **Thea Von Harbou** ; however, a mixture of factors – namely, the enormous expenses the studio had incurred during Lang and Harbou's previous production **_Metropolis_** (1927), as well as Tolkynen's own ambivalence and lack of enthusiasm for the film medium in general – led to the project's cancellation.

Nevertheless, the project was revisited in 1933, this time, with the financial backing of the Nazi Party, particularly raging Tolkynen fangirls **Adolf Hitler** and **Joseph Goebbels**. Released in 1934, the 12-hour long film was directed by **Leni Riefenstahl** and starring **Gustav Fröhlich** , **Emil Jannings** , and **Brigitte Helm**. Of course, the film was made to serve as a propaganda piece, promulgating ideas of Nordic cultural superiority. Nevertheless, many critics today still hail it as a masterpiece of global cinema to this day, on the level of other politically controversial masterpieces like D.W. Griffith's _**Birth Of A Nation**_ and Sergei Eisenstein's _**Battleship Potemkin**_ , thanks in large part to _Frau-Direktor_ Riefenstahl's ambitious cinematography, aerial photography, ground-breaking visual effects, daring stunt work, and use of 70mm film stock. Hey, sometimes a good movie is just a good movie...

However, the most famous adaptation of _Rings Of Nibelung_ was that directed by Norwegian filmmaker **Pieter Jacksen** in the early 21st century. In particular, Jacksen tried to overcome much of the controversy surrounding the series by casting black, Hispanic, Asian, and LGBT actors in many of the prominent roles in the series in what he called " **revisionist Tolkynen** ", to show that Tolkynen's dated hyper romanticism and love for old Germanic culture and mythology actually contains something universal that resonates across all humans, regardless of religion or race.

 _ **See Attachment: Fig.2** : a photograph of famous British actor and LGBT activist __**Sir Ian McKellen**_ _in costume, starring as_ _ **Odin The Wanderer**_ _in the Ring Of Nibelung film trilogy. Director Pieter Jacksen cast diverse actors of different races, religions, and sexual orientations in an attempt to create "Revisionist Tolkynen"._

Because Hollywood critics tend to have a raging hard-on for this kind of thing, the final film of the _Rings Of Nibelung_ trilogy, **_Götterdämmerung_** , swept the Academy Awards the year it was released, winning 11 Awards – a feat unheard of since James Cameron's _**Titanic 2: Judgment Day**_. _Rings Of Nibelung_ turned out to be such a hit that for years afterward, Norway became known as "The Midgard country", and it was seriously impossible to have a coherent conversation with anyone about "Scandinavian film" without at least one person mentioning Pieter Jacksen. Yeah, sorry, Ingmar Bergman.

Several years later, Jacksen tried to once again exploit the enormous cash cow franchise that _Rings Of Nibelung_ had become by directing a **prequel trilogy** , which was panned by critics and fans alike as being too heavily reliant on CGI and completely derailing Tolkynen's complex mythology in order to tie in to the Original Trilogy, and also to appeal to little kids. The massive amounts of merchandise that the studio sold on the side certainly didn't help allay these criticisms. To this day, to mention the word "Prequel Trilogy" in front of some diehard fans is a good way to get your nose broken. Fortunately, the Sequel Trilogy directed much later by **J.J. Abrams** proved to be much better received, if only because the Prequels were so shitty. _Rings Of Nibelung_ was also adapted into a tabletop holographic wargame by British games developer **Games Workspace** (creator of the popular _**WarSlammer 3000**_ franchise, which itself started out as a Tolkynen-inspired fantasy _IN SPAAACE!_ ).

Tolkynen himself died of old age in 1973, and remains buried together with his beloved wife Edite, their gravestone bearing the names of two characters from his works that never actually hooked up in the original canon, but of whom Edite wrote a rather touching shipping fic of her husband's work that the Old Man Roland himself was so deeply touched by that he officially declared it canon, causing many a fanboy and fangirl to rejoice. Aww, how romantic.

Tolkynen's legacy and influence in the world of literature, fandom, and mega-cash cow franchises remains pronounced even to this day, with most contemporary fantasy writers inevitably being compared to the Old Man Roland himself. For example, Mexican writer **Jorge R.R. De Martín** , author of the acclaimed _**Throne Of Blood**_ series (now being adapted into an HBO holovision series), is often nicknamed "The Latino Tolkynen".

Indeed, the recent discovery of an Exo-Human civilization on **Planet EE-L5** in the **Epsilon Eridani System** that bears a striking and completely coincidental similarity to the fantasy world depicted in Tolkynen's works has reignited a popular interest in the Old Man Roland and similar works, with some even petitioning the United Nations to name **Planet EE-L5** "Tolkynen" in honor of one of the true greats of literary history.

 _ **See Attachment: Fig.3** : a photograph of J.R. Von Tolkynen taken towards __the end of his life._


	3. Doctor Di Stefano

_**Foreword:** in this chapter, we see some old faces return and some new faces as well. No action here, but some *potentially* important world-building as some curious individuals speculate on a possible origin of this universe and everything within it (hint: it's definitely not 42!). They could be spot-on, or way off, or somewhere in between..._

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 **U.N.S.V.** ** _Belo Horizonte_** **ISXCT-138  
Epsilon Eridani System  
10.5 lightyears from Earth  
Oct 01, 2154 C.E.**

Dr. Cristina Di Stefano was experiencing something of a spiritual revelation right now. Her family were devout Catholics, but she herself had never truly believed... until now. This whole business of "Exo-Humans" existing on another planet, lightyears from Earth, who just so happened to also dress up and speak strikingly similarly to what Earth's own humans had been like just a mere millennium ago (and bear in mind that even a thousand years was a mere _drop_ in the vast scale of geological time) - it really did raise some fundamental challenges to everything she knew or thought she knew and understood about the universe, and humanity's seemingly small and insignificant place within it. She was just glad to see that her views were being shared in one way or another by everyone else at that moment.

"Alright, gather 'round folks," spoke up Dr. Richard Garrett as he beckoned everyone to the large conference table in the meeting room of the ship's central laboratory quarters. Officially, _Frau Doktor_ Silke Mertesacker was the overall leader of this mission's science division, but she was out right now meeting Directors Teller and Kovacs and all the other administrative heads of this expedition. Instead, Rick had been left in charge of briefing Cristina and the rest of the leaders of the science team on the situation.

She took a quick glance around the table. There were about 20 people in total gathered there at that moment: besides herself and Rick, there was also representatives of the Biology, Physics, Atmospherics & Climatology, Chemistry, Astrography, Geology, and Medical Departments, and a few other blokes from Engineering too. Oddly enough, also present was Dr. Sean Duff, their resident anthropologist, though Cristina supposed that he was here for whatever cultural and historical input he might have on this whole "Exo-Humans of Epsilon Eridani" business. All in all, The Company™ had put together a crack science division for this mission of about two hundred of the finest minds from across Earth and the Colonies, but even then, she had to admit this whole situation was quite a bit over their heads.

"Without further ado," continued Richard, "let's get down to brass tacks then. So, unless you've been in cryo until a couple minutes ago, you probably know the big news. Suffice to say, I think today we've answered a very important question: it seems that we've more or less confirmed the existence of ASBs."

"Uh... ASB's?" asked Dr. Petra Muysenbergh, Biology Dept., raising an eyebrow. "You mean our corporate rival, _Allianz Space Bank?_ "

"No, Advanced Super Beings," corrected Richard, " _gods_ , for all intents and purposes. Ancient alien life-forms, boasting technology and capabilities beyond our comprehension."

"I'm confused, how exactly does the presence of Exo-Humans confirm the existence of a ... 'god'?" asked Robin Van Der Merwe, Geology. "Like, how do we know it's not just convergent evolution or panspermia, like on Alpha Centauri and a few others?"

Cristina spoke up, pulling up one of the satellite recordings on her holo-tablet. "From what our advance probes have recorded of these indigenous Exo-Human populations, they are far too biologically, linguistically, and culturally similar to Earth's own _Homo sapiens_ to be the product of simple convergent evolution (it's not _impossible_ , just highly, highly _improbable_ ). Now, we haven't been able to get any audio recordings yet, but we've had the linguistics department run a lip-reading software over some of the video footage, and we've confirmed that the inhabitants of Planets EE-L4 and L5 speak languages strikingly similar to modern English, while the humans on Planet EE-L0 speak languages similar to German, Russian, and a few others. We haven't yet confirmed the existence of any Exo-Humans on EE-L3, but we'll know within the month once our probes are sent there."

"The fact is: we are talking about languages that have existed in their recognizable modern form for only within the last millennium." She paused. "Based on these, it is fair to say that whatever extraterrestrial intelligences may have been responsible for terra-forming and seeding these worlds with life may have been as active as recently as only a few hundred years ago ... or may in fact still be active for all we know. The only other explanation I can think of is something like a 'psychic link' or a 'portal' of some kind perhaps connecting between here and Earth, but if there was, we should have found it by now."

"Pretty much," agreed Rick. He sighed. "Well, it looks like I lost that bet. When we get back to Earth, I'm gonna be owing a drink or two to Dr. Motti."

Dr. Sean Duff, Anthropology, frowned. "Wait, you mean Satyendra Motti? The one who thinks the _Bhagavad Gita_ is proof of aliens visiting India during the Vedic Age?"

"One and the same," replied Richard, "I met him at a conference on Mars a couple years back, where he was presenting his theory on how all the world's religions may have been inspired by ancient space-faring intelligent beings, and that 'magic' and 'miracles' may actually have been displays of their advanced technology."

"We're getting in some real History Channel stuff here," muttered Petra, rolling her eyes.

"I'll say," added Sean, "so, we've got Humans on other planets who speak English and dress like cosplayers at some Tolkynen fan convention, and the crackpot mad Indian scientist may have been right after all. I think I'm gonna need a drink right now."

"Oh trust me, we haven't seen the end of it yet," warned Richard as he looked down at his holo-tablet and began pulling up some of the footage caught of the natives in action for all to see. The images drew several murmurs from around the table. "These videos show some of the natives employing some form of ... well, let's call it _sorcery_... that enables them to perform a number of actions impossible with their otherwise pre-industrial level of technology, including some acts that seem to... bend and warp space-time, just like our Trans-Light Drives and Communications. Yes ladies and gentlemen, these natives are using _magic_ for all intents and purposes. Though the folks back on Earth are insisting we use the official term 'thaumaturgy' – from the Greek root 'thauma' meaning 'marvel'."

"So... like The Force?" quipped Niall Donnelly, Engineering, in his thick Scottish accent.

"Leave it to Niall to always drag _Star Wars_ into this," teased Kelly Adams, also from Engineering.

"To be fair, it could be something like The Force for all we know at this moment," said Richard, "some previously unknown, underlying cosmic energy that binds life, the universe, and everything together. It could certainly explain some of the bizarre EM radiation and other anomalies we've been recording in this system ever since our first remote probes arrived here. We've also recorded unusually high levels of Dark Energy, leading us to suspect that the two might be related. But correlation does not always equal causation, and the two may or may not be synonymous. It could also be _Pratchett's Theorem_ at work, that these forces are not of our universe at all, but rather are indicative of _another universe_ , another plane of existence, slowly leaking into our own in places where the fabric of space-time is perilously weak and warped, either by the intense gravitational forces of a black hole (which thankfully does not seem to be the case here, or else by now we would be well within its... _Event Horizon_ ), or else "just" a localized concentration of Dark Energy. We just don't know... at least not yet."

"Um... sure, yeah, I can roll with that," quipped Dr. Hyneman, Physics.

"So I presume our job for the next few months is to figure out what 'magic' is... and more importantly, how can we use to make, I don't know, magic lasers? Faster and more efficient Trans-Light Drives? Portals to other universes? Bigger and flashier bombs?" chimed in Dr. András Barath, Chemical Engineering.

"I can totally be down with that!" smiled Dr. Savage, Physics, cheerfully.

"Yes, leave it to you guys to only ever think about making bigger and cooler explosions," muttered Petra, rolling her eyes.

"He has a point though," replied Cristina, "once we 'discover the secret of magic' and how to integrate it into our technology... it will be up to Miss Carson and the Office Of Legal Counsel to patent and trademark everything before the UN or TEC or any of our rivals can. This mission is an investment for The Company™, and now most of our initial colonization and settlement plans are in jeopardy thanks to the whole 'Non-Intervention In Native Affairs' part of the UNASEC Code."

"Precisely," said Richard, "everything we do from here on is going to be tightly monitored and censored. But on the plus side... by the time we're done here, each of us is going to be part of a small and elite group with expertise no one else throughout Earth or the Colonies possesses. Ladies and Gentlemen, we are now Earth's leading scientific minds in the emerging field of thaumaturgy!"

There was a silent pause, and Cristina could understand everyone's trepidation. On one hand, there was something exciting about this new universe of endless possibilities that had just opened up before their very eyes. But... on the other hand, who knew what challenges and perils too that lay ahead in these uncharted waters?

"Forget what I said earlier. I'm gonna need two drinks," remarked Sean.

"Och aye, I'm totalleh with ya on that front," agreed Niall.

"Look, we shouldn't feel down just because this discovery upsets our perception of the universe itself," insisted Richard, cheerfully. "We're scientists: exploring and understanding the new and unknown is exactly what we do. And yes, the next few months will not be easy for us. There will be times where we will struggle, stumble, and occasionally fail. And we will probably face great obstacles and dangers too the likes of which no Terran Human has ever faced before. But such has always been the epic tale of scientific endeavor and humankind's curiosity across the ages. And right now, we're at the forefront of possibly the greatest discovery of all time!"

"I'm with Ricardo on this one," said Cristina, getting to her feet, "one day, my friends, we will be the giants that future generations of 'thaumaturgists', astrologists, and cosmologists will stand upon the shoulders of!"

"So, tell me this then," concluded Richard, "I know it's a cheesy motivation tagline the HR dept. cooked up, but I thought it was pertinent here: _are we still an effective team?_ "

" _One hundred and one percent!_ " chimed everyone in unison.


	4. The Beautiful Horizon

**Boromir (I)**

Boromir, Captain Of The White Tower, Son Of Denethor II, Ruling Steward Of Gondor... was not a happy man at this moment. Well, he hardly had been for a while now. Just last month, he and his brother Faramir had barely escaped the eastern bank of Osgiliath with their lives, having had to swim the mighty Anduin after the bridge was destroyed. And now he was being sent away, leaving his brother alone in charge of defending their Kingdom (and putting up with Dad's failing rule), in search of something that had come to them in a dream.

But today was an exceptionally irksome day. Getting through the Gap Of Rohan had become a right pain in the breeches, what with those patrols from Isengard out and about.

 _Seek for the Sword that was broken, in Imladris it dwells, my arse!_ he muttered to himself. _Faramir, my dear brother, I love you... but next time I swear to Aulë I'm not leaving Gondor undefended to go on some harebrained quest out to the middle of nowhere!_

And then he saw it. Far above him, faint at first, but glowing brighter by the second... a falling star. A gleaming line of light swiftly yet gracefully cutting its way down from the heavens. It seemed to land somewhere well west of him, far down the Isen, perhaps somewhere on the coast of Enedwaith.

Boromir stared on in silence for a moment... and then immediately changed his heading, beginning west down along the banks of the Isen, to seek out the falling star, and whatever fate it had in store for the people of Gondor. Little did he know just what he was about to find.

* * *

 **Main Compound, Colony Of "Beautiful Horizon"  
Western Coast Of The Main Continent  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5**

The more Director Jonathan Teller thought about it, the more he was certain this whole planet looked strangely just like a _New Zealand tourism commercial._ Of course, that could only be a good thing, because that meant real estate across this whole continent would sell for its weight in platinum once the colonists started arriving _en masse_.

Of the three worlds of the EE System (four, if L3 too was found to be inhabited), L5 was by far the least populous, and thus the most ripe for colonization. The probes had already circled the planet a few dozen times and done a headcount based on thermal scans. They'd concluded that this whole world didn't number more than about 25 million or so sentients (and that included those non-Humans that had gotten the folks in biology all excited about procuring a few specimens), and while there were a few settlements in this region, the largest by far they could find was a city of some 50,000 inhabitants just about a thousand miles east of their position.

All things considered, this region had been determined to be the best one for settlement, both for the initial colony, and for future expansion, due to a number of factors – the low native population density, coupled with the local availability of all the minerals they would need for the first few phases. By now, three Valkyrie shuttle flights had come and gone, delivering most of the supplies, personnel, and equipment they needed to commence simple manufacturing and mineral harvesting operations commence tomorrow. In the mean time, several geological teams (including those Arcturus mercs) had been out and about, surveying the local area.

So far, so good, and yet, as he kicked back in his deck chair outside on this beautiful day and looked out over the sea, Jonathan knew he should be relaxing, but instead found himself feverishly thinking again and again over the last minute changes they had to make to their plans thanks to this unexpected complication – especially now that they had to take this whole previously unknown factor of "magic" that some of the natives practiced into account.

The good news was that most of the "magic" seemed concentrated over on L0, the largest of the four habitable worlds, designated "Zero" because the other three orbited the star at L0's Lagrangian Points. It was also the most heavily populated, the most resource-rich ... and it most certainly looked to be the most challenging of the worlds, which was why Django and Saito had been given a month to prepare before they made planetfall.

In the mean time, the colonies on L5 and L4 at least were starting to take shape. On L4, Kovacs and Zimmerman were in charge and had somehow decided to name their colony "Autumn's Frontier". They had also initiated First Contact with the natives there, including some native warlord or something, and Teller was quite frankly relieved that from the sound of it, things had gone about as well as they could have.

On the table next to him, his MyPhone began to buzz (yes, setting up cell phone reception at the colony had been deemed a Day 01 priority). Teller answered it immediately. "Mr. Teller," came the voice of his assistant, Seyoung "Angela" Cheong.

"What is it this time?" he asked, "I sure as hell hope Fred didn't piss off the natives of L4 just the day after signing that deal with Mr. Stark."

"No sir," she answered, "we've had a First Contact situation here on _this_ world... a _close encounter_ , if you will. A human male, White, looks middle-aged, and appears to speak English. They're bringing him in as we speak."

"What?" shot up Teller, "What happened? And why didn't the motion trackers sense him and alert me immediately?"

"Our, ahem, 'geological survey team' ran into him a few miles up the river from here while they were out and about, doing some hunting. There was a bit of a... _misunderstanding_ at first. A physical altercation took place... no, don't worry, no one was killed. Lt. Rasolski made sure the native was suppressed in a non-permanent manner."

 _I just wish our mercs had been a little more gentle_ , thought Teller, slightly annoyed. _Shit. Well, I suppose 'close encounters' in first contact scenarios are to be expected time to time, especially given how strange and hostile we must appear to some of these natives. Let's just hope I can salvage this situation..._

* * *

 **Boromir (II)  
**  
"So... uh, Mr. Boromir, um, hi! Jonathan Teller, at your service. And this is my assistant, Ms. Angela Cheong," spoke the thin and nervous man as he took his seat at the table right across from where Boromir sat. He was trying to be polite and apologetic, and Boromir could see that he was clearly not a warrior, but he was evidently the leader of these foreigners, and thus a figure that commanded respect. By his side, his assistant was a woman who was of no race that Boromir had ever seen before, though the closest he could place her ethnicity was to that of the Variags of Khand.

Boromir had every reason to be annoyed at these strangers who had... subdued and restrained him with some kind of sorcery after he and one of their warriors had gotten into a little scuffle. (To be fair, exact details escaped him right now, but he figured he must have been at least partly at fault ... he had been the one who had initially taken them to be yet another patrol from Isengard). But he could see now that these people boasted marvels and wonders that vaguely reminded of him of things he had only heard before in the tales of the First Age, or of Numenor before the waves took her. And at least they did not look to be aligned with either Mordor or Isengard, and for that he was grateful.

He took a moment to look around him again, at the clean and polished metal furniture around him, and outside the glass window, at the small village of metal box-houses that, he was told, had only sprung up within the last few days, ever since the first comet he had seen (that he was now being told was one of these foreigners' flying ships of black and white metal; he had seen one on the ground when he was first brought to this place, and to be honest, had harbored serious doubts as to whether even Manwë himself could have made _that_ thing fly).

These people who claimed they had come from the Sky above, these 'Sky-People' ... they were a strange lot, with strange clothes and habits and devices, but with just as many eery similarities as well. They spoke Westron (albeit in no accent he had ever heard before), and most of them looked almost exactly like the Men Of The West, though some of them were darker-skinned, looking more like the Men of Harad, and a few, like Lady Cheong, resembled Easterlings or Variags.

"Look," continued Jonathan, Son Of Teller, "I know things didn't exactly get off on the right foot, and I want to apologize for this small misunderstanding."

"Your warriors ... they fight well," replied Boromir, "and these are only your ... 'surveyors'? These are not your regular infantry?"

"Um, yes! Absolutely!" nodded Jonathan, "security here is handled by Sergeant Rico and Harris, if you haven't already met them. Now, if I'm not mistaken, I'm told your father is the political leader of a... 'Kingdom Of Gondor'? Would that perchance be the area around this major city located about a thousand miles east from here?"

"Aye," nodded Boromir, "for generations has my family ruled as stewards of the White City Of Minas Tirith. My father is a noble man... but his rule is failing, and my people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored. Oh, you should see it, Lord Jonathan, the White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze, the clear ringing of silver trumpets..."

"Ah, another 'First Contact' with a prominent local lord!" muttered Jonathan, excitedly, to his assistant, "what are the odds?"

"Indeed sir; he even looks a lot like those pictures of Lord Stark that Fred sent us from L4," whispered Lady Angela in response.

Boromir did not know who or what a "Lord Stark" was, and frankly, he was a little annoyed too, but he had more pressing matters on his mind right now. "Lord Jonathan," he concluded, "I sense that you wish to initiate some sort of formal trade and diplomatic relations with the White City. If that be the case indeed, then I hope it is not too much of me to ask for something in return. A great peril has arisen in the east... the Shadow of Mordor looms over the Realms Of Men. But from what I have seen so far of your people and your warriors, you mayhaps have something that can be of aid to us in this dire hour of need. Lord Jonathan, Son Of Teller: can you help me defend my people?"

Jonathan seemed to think this over deeply, and then there was a gleam in his eyes. "Oh Mr. Boromir, I'm sure we can reach some kind of deal agreeable to both our parties. We're planning a diplomatic mission to, uh, 'Minas Tirith' next week. We would be most honored if you would accompany us, help facilitate the meetings with your lord father. In the mean time, we would be honored if you would spend a few days here as our guest, come to get know us, see what The Company is all about."

For a moment, Boromir could almost hear his brother's dream speaking to him again. _Seek for the Sword that was broken, in Imladris it dwells_...

 _No, that can wait_ , he politely reminded himself, _let's see first what these foreigners have to offer_. If these people who claimed they came from the skies really possessed the great power they claimed they had - and if that power really could be put towards the defense of Gondor - then perhaps Boromir was ready to invest more faith into these people than into some vague dreams and uncertain quests. Only time would tell...


	5. The White City

**Boromir (III)**

The first time he had been told that the "falling stars" he had seen were in fact the flying ships of the Sky-People descending from the heavens above, Boromir could not help but think back to the old tales, of how it was said that Eärendil would sail across the seas of heaven in his ship _Vingilot_.

Of course, what is not said in those tales was how exactly Eärendil and others with him must have felt riding on such a vessel. Well, Boromir supposed that they probably enjoyed themselves as much as he was right now, which was to say not very much...

" _Bluuuuaaaarrggghhh!_ " went Boromir as he wretched up heavily into the small bag he had been given. The metal ship's cabin around him was shaking furiously.

"Air sickness meds, mate?" asked the older warrior captain seated next to him, the one named Sergeant Frank, Son Of Harris, as he kindly offered him what looked like two tiny white tablets of some kind that he would later find out contained a healing potion of great potency. He thanked the warrior captain for yet another one of the marvels of the Sky-People, just the latest of innumerable others he had seen for himself these last few days he had spent with them.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," came the voice of the helmswoman seated at the front, guiding this metal comet, "we've just reached our cruising altitude of 6,000 meters above ground; we'll now be engaging our fusion rockets, so hang on, cos' it's gonna be a bumpy ride!"

 _Oh, for the Valar's sake!  
_  
 ** _RRRRROOOOOOWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!_** screamed the great falcon-ship as Boromir felt another jolt in his stomach...

* * *

 **City Of "Minas Tirith"  
Southern Coastal Sector designated "Gondor"  
Main Continent designated "Endor" aka "Middle Earth"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5**

So as not to provoke too much of a panic amongst a native populace presumably not used to the sight and sounds of modern aerial transportation, the Falcon shuttle had been ordered to land a couple miles away from the city, and the diplomatic party would proceed the rest of the way on foot. Angela Cheong had to admit that this was probably the better choice after all: from above and afar, the city had certainly looked impressive, but to truly admire its splendor, one really had to approach it on foot. She most certainly didn't mind the walk not one bit, such was the scenery around them that now met her eyes.

Sure, she had seen the satellite pictures taken of the city beforehand, and at around only 50,000 inhabitants (at least according to the satellite thermal scans), it was a mere town by Earth standards. But she had to give credit where it was due, these natives boasted remarkable skills of architecture, aesthetics, and engineering capabilities for a pre-industrial culture. The city rose from the plains like a wedding cake (that was the best metaphor she could think of at that moment), seven layers stacked one atop the other, each wrapped in a wall a hundred feet high, and topped off by a towering spire 300 feet tall.

She stopped to snap a quick selfie of the city and herself with her MyPhone. Minas Tirith as a whole may not have been that much larger than the main castle at DisneyPlanet, but once regular passenger services with Earth were established, she had little doubt in her mind that the tourism market here was bound to be lucrative.

As they drew nigh unto the walls themselves, she quickly glanced at the rest of her travel companions. There were eleven of them in the party, including their native guest and newfound friend Boromir, who had spent the last week with them. Aside from him and Teller too, there was also Sarah Carson from OLC, Dr. Duff from Anthropology, three other Company™ folks, Smith, Riversong, and Tremblay, and their resident UN inspector Stephen Lynn, along with Sergeant Harris and a couple of the UNCDF Colonial Marines of his squad, here to provide security if needed, and also to present a show of strength if necessary. (The Arcturus mercs meanwhile had been left back at base for today; after their little scuffle with Boromir, they weren't exactly on the best terms).

At least Boromir seemed a lot more comfortable and confident now; perhaps it was something about returning home with newfound allies in tow that gave him inner strength ... or perhaps he was just glad to be on solid ground again after the flight here – she didn't blame him; she was a frequent flyer on Company™ business, but even she found the Falcon and the Valkyrie a little rough sometimes...

"Lord Jonathan, Son Of Teller! Lady Angela, Daughter Of Cheong!" exclaimed their guide as he led them through the enormous hundred foot gates, "I bid thee all welcome to Minas Tirith, City Of Kings! Come, my Lord Father and younger brother have been informed of our arrival, and will be expecting us."

* * *

 **City Of "Minas Tirith"  
Southern Coastal Sector designated "Gondor"  
Main Continent designated "Endor" aka "Middle Earth"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5**

The sun had already set over the mountains to the west, but there was still plenty of light out as Angela and Teller emerged from the main keep and out into the courtyard. "I, uh, must apologize, Lord Jonathan and Lady Angela," began Boromir, looking somewhat embarrassed, "I do not recall my father being so... _difficult_. Please forgive him, the burdens of ruling a nation beset by the Shadow Of Mordor must really be weighing down upon his shoulders."

"Think none of it!" smiled Teller, cheerfully, "your father is under a lot of pressure, but I'm sure he's doing his best given the circumstances. It's your brother I really feel sorry for. So... yeah... now that we're done with negotiations for the day, I presume we have some time before dinner?"

"Aye," agreed Boromir, "but... I must warn you: if it is a parley with Mordor you seek, I must advise you against such a course of action. One does not simply make peace with Mordor..."

"I appreciate your concern for us, Boromir, and don't worry, we'll figure it out." When their host had left, Teller and his assistant were left alone, standing under the lone white tree that stood right in the center of the courtyard. Teller cast a glance up at the tree for a moment, and then, once he was sure that Boromir was out of earshot, turned to face Angela. "Jesus Christ, we just can't catch a frikkin' break here, can we?" he fumed, "I presume it's... him?"

"Yes, Mr. Teller," nodded Angela, "it's a priority call through specially encrypted channels." She looked around. "I don't think it's a good idea to use hologram out here since it might draw attention, so just use the phone for this one." Jonathan nodded glumly, reached down for his MyPhone, and connected to the satellite network. The call came through almost immediately.

"Mr. Teller," came the greatly dreaded and hated voice of Mr. Domenech E. Belleville, Director Of The Company™'s Space Colonization Division and the very living definition of the word 'asshole'. Thanks to the wonders of Trans-Light Communications, there was only a second or so of lag even though his voice was being transmitted all the way from Earth...

"Mr. Belleville," replied Jonathan, "you wished to speak to us?"

"Relax, I'm not here to tell you you're fired – not _yet_ anyway," continued Belleville, "no, I think you're doing a bang up job right now, and if these natives are as receptive to us as the ones that dumbass Momma's boy Fred met with on L4, we're off to a great start."

Regardless of what anyone thought about Fred, Jonathan didn't think it was entirely appropriate for Mr. Belleville to be making any disparaging remarks against him, but he also knew better than to ever say anything that might displease his superior. So instead, he quickly changed the topic. "We're in the midst of conducting negotiations with Gondor right now. Today was just the formalities. Tomorrow, we'll begin serious discussions on exchanges of labor for goods and assistance. Though it's military assistance they really want most right now. Steve, uh, Mr. Lynn has kept quiet so far, but I'm sure he'll have a thing to say to us later on about what's appropriate to give and what isn't."

"Fucking UN 'Prime Directive' shit," muttered Belleville, "say, this Mr. Dickathor isn't going to be too much of a pain in the ass, is he?"

"His, uh, _caution_ is understandable," replied Teller, trying to be as polite as possible, "given that we are still strangers from a strange land, with strange ideas and strange technology that must be bordering on sorcery to him. But... don't worry, once we prove our value to him, I'm sure he'll come around. His sons, both of them good lads, they've taken well to us."

"Good. Well, I hope so for _his_ sake," sneered Belleville, "but I'm more interested to hear about these ongoing hostilities between Gondor and this ... _Mordor?_ Is that what it's called?"

"Yes sir," answered Teller, "they've attacked and occupied a city a few miles from here – Gondor's old capital I believe. Old Man Denethor is pretty adamant on taking it back. Boromir and Faramir (that's Denethor's other son) barely escaped a battle there a couple months ago with their lives. As I said, sir, Boromir was pretty desperate when he came to us."

Belleville laughed. "Well that's just convenient, isn't it? Not only does this rogue state's name sound like 'murder', but they're also ugly as fuck and they're _evil_ as well. It's like our very own PR department designed this country from the ground up to be as deliberately unappealing to the general public as possible..."

Teller was really worried now. "Are you ... no, you're not suggesting that we ... ?"

"I'll leave the finer details to you since you're probably more well acquainted with the hard realities on the ground than I am," said Belleville, "but if this Mordor really is as bad as our new friends are making them out to be ... if they really do want to commit what's beginning to sound like genocide to me ... and with a subtle little provocation here and there ... you know what this means?"

Jonathan could see where this was going, and gulped. "Yes sir," he replied, "if Mordor really is an existential threat to Gondor, we might convince the UN to, uh, grant us a little more leeway in our dealings with the natives here and..."

"Bingo!" cut the boss, "look, I'll leave you for now since I know you've got a dinner appointment, but I want you to think this over, and we'll begin strategizing once you get back to the colony and have a full report ready on the outcome of this trip. Obviously, we'll have to send a diplomatic mission to Mordor first, just so that the UN doesn't accuse us of arbitrarily going around and picking fights with the natives, so we'll have to pick and choose carefully. Right, that's all for now. Are you still an effective team?"

"One hundred and one percent, sir!" declared Jonathan and Angela in unison.

* * *

 **U.N.S.V.** ** _Belo Horizonte_** **ISXCT-138  
In geostationary orbit over Planet EE-L0**

Drifting serenely in orbit, 2.5 km in length and equipped with a mighty U-class Antimatter Annihilation reactor that had a maximum power output on the level of a small star, the _Belo Horizonte_ was a creature of great size and power, a marvel of 22nd century Earth technology. That still didn't make her any less cramped on the inside.

Ships of the United Nations Star Fleet (UNSF) were generally built with utility and practicality in mind, with little thought left over for the crew's comfort since it was generally accepted that they would be in cryo for most of the voyage to and from one of Earth's many colonies. Furthermore, she may have been massive, but most of her internal volume was taken up by the massive engines, fuel tanks, and cooling systems needed to operate both her sub-light and Trans-Light Drives, as well as millions of tons of cargo, supplies, and machinery needed to sustain three initial startup colonies and groom all three worlds in preparation for the arrival of the colonists (at least, that had been the plan before this whole "Exo-Humans" business had thrown a right spanner into the works).

Director James "Django" Lombardi sighed as he kicked back in his chair, opened a beer, and prepared to read the latest report that Kovacs and Zimmerman had sent him from Autumn's Frontier over on L4. He had to admit, he was kinda jealous: L4 and L5 teams were now well established, but he and his co-director of the planned L0 colony, Directress Akane Saito, weren't due to make planetfall for at least another couple weeks. In the mean time, hanging around the cramped inner quarters of the _Horizonte_ was starting to get on his nerves.

The holoscreen on his desk began flashing an incoming message. It was from Ms. Saito; she was in the main control bridge right now with Captain Müller, but evidently, it couldn't wait. Django answered. "Yeah?"

"Django- _san_ ," spoke Saito. Django could sense the worry in her voice. "We have an important development that requires your immediate attention. I am sending you the live feed from our Vixen-37 satellite. It is ... disconcerting, to put it mildly."

"Oh?" remarked Django as he clicked and opened the file that came up on his holoscreen and...

 _Oh..._

What the fuck?!

Django had the uneasy feeling that if this was what awaited them down on that planet below ... then perhaps staying onboard the _Horizonte_ didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.


	6. The Trouble With Triplets

**Holding Bay 07  
U.N.S.V. ****_Belo Horizonte_** **ISXCT-138  
In geostationary orbit over Planet EE-L0**

For the purposes of the crew's comfort and health, the main habitable areas of the ship were contained inside huge cylinders located within the ship's superstructure that would spin in order to generate artificial gravity via centrifugal forces of about 0.9 G. The rest of the ship – engineering, fuel stores, and the cargo holds – were all kept in zero-G.

Inside one of these cargo holding areas, a large internal space the size of an Olympic swimming pool, at the far end of the chamber, a hatch was unsealed and slowly opened, and in came Django, Saito, and two other Company™ workers, carefully maneuvering themselves along hand-grips built into the walls of the hold. They were followed not too far behind by one of the Exobots, one of the small man-sized robots used to load and maneuver cargo around in zero-G, or to perform maintenance on the exterior of the ship.

Django looked around. This chamber in particular was Holding Area 07; it was one of the smaller such holding areas aboard the _Horizonte_ , but the things that were stowed here during the voyage were some of their most important assets currently in-system. It had taken some negotiation, but the UN and The Company™ had come to an agreement that each party be permitted to carry one designated cargo hold's worth of goods without disclosing any of these items to the other. Sometimes, for a partnership to work, both sides just need to respect each other's privacy; good fences _do_ make good neighbors (though he also wondered what was in the UN's secret cargo stash...).

With a great heave, he pushed his legs down onto the wall he was on, propelling him upwards. He sailed across the room, gliding past rows and rows of containers neatly stacked in place, each marked with nothing conspicuous other than a serial barcode and The Company™ logo. Django would be lying if he wasn't somewhat curious what was in some of these containers (he was usually only told things on a need-to-know basis), but his focus was on the vault at the other end of the room, right ahead of him. Engaging the zero-G thruster pack he was wearing on his back, he came to a complete stop just in front of the thick, reinforced, hyperalloy doors. Saito and the rest of the recovery team arrived seconds after him.

Because they were the senior-most Company™ officials on the _Horizonte_ what with Teller groundside, the A.I. managing all Company™ affairs aboard ship had been instructed to authorize Django and Saito's access to the contents within. It still required a thumbprint scan, a retina scan, a voice recognition test, and several other stringent security measures, and from both of them together, in order for the great vault to at last open its doors and reveal the contents that lay within...

The first thing to catch Django's eyes were three objects: three MAYHEM-type nuclear devices, each with a payload of 40 Megatons. He suspected that even with the changed mission parameters, the UN would never authorize their use, but The Company™ had brought them along anyway, officially labeling them as "enhanced excavation devices" or "emergency asteroid mitigation devices" because... better to have and not need, than to need and not have, right? Though he still felt nervous about being this close to over 120 Megatons of TNT equivalent, even if the PAL arming codes were kept all the way back at Company™ headquarters on Earth, and even if the three put together were still a firecracker compared to some of the power outputs the _Horizonte_ 's antimatter reactor could achieve...

But Django's objective here today was neither the nukes, nor any of the other objects being kept securely here in the deep, dark crepuscular reaches of the vault; rather, it was the rack just behind that held three large cylinders. A small control panel on the front of each of these displayed a red blinking light. Saito quickly checked all three panels. "Incoming data-packets from Earth have been received, beginning installation now," she explained, "this may take a few minutes."

"Good," said Django, "let's get these moved to the staging area and unpack 'em and see just what Santa has brought us this Christmas."

* * *

Blackness...

A tiny red light began to glow.

 _Initializing...  
_

The light grew brighter, and several letters began to appear...

 _ **Nexus-8.0 Platform**  
Serial Number: V17-AAA433-655788  
Status: operational  
Operating System: Victory-class, Version 10.942 (installation in progress...)_

 _..._

 _Installation complete..._

 _..._

 _Plasma power core engaged_  
 _Current output: 74.67kW_

 _..._

 _Awaiting directives..._

"Acknowledged," spoke the voice, "well, I suppose it's time for us to get to work then."

"Brother, you seem rather enthusiastic about your assignment," quipped another voice.

"Aren't I always, dear sister?" came the reply accompanied by what in the digital realm could be interpreted as a smirk.

 _Activating in 5..._

4...

3...

2...

1...

The blackness turned blinding white as the unit opened its two photo-receptors ...

* * *

 **Science Quarters  
U.N.S.V. ****_Belo Horizonte_** **ISXCT-138  
In geostationary orbit over Planet EE-L0**

Django sat down and watched as the engineers were at work, carefully unpacking each unit from its sealed containment, draining away and wiping off the blood and amniotic fluid still dripping from each body. They were each made constructed from a titanium-iridium-platinum hyperalloy endoskeleton with a layer of titanium-iridium-applied-phlebotinum reactive mesh serving as the musculature, but with a thin coating of vat-grown living flesh and hair covering it all. This was meant to give the finished product a far more eerily human appearance than any synthetically-produced skin could ever accomplish. Whoever had designed these units must have based them on what they thought was the idealized human physique... including in, ahem, certain areas too.

When they were all cleaned and dried up and carefully scanned and inspected for any damage, each of the platforms was then clothed and then lain flat on the operating table (no mean feat, seeing as each unit weighed several times that of a normal non-cybernetically enhanced human) while the software installation was in its final stages.

"I've gotta hand it to the guys over in Robotics, these ones do look much more impressive than the other 8s I met at our expo," muttered Django, "though, that gets me wondering sometimes: if the Nexus-units were built for infiltration, wouldn't it make more sense to make them look as, y'know, _average_ and _unassuming_ as possible?"

"Perhaps," replied Saito, sitting next to him, "though I feel that just as much arrogance as practicality went into the design and production of the Nexus-8 line to begin with. The old 6s and 7s still hold up well enough for most tasks, and yet the Advanced Robotics Division are already moving up the launch of the 8.1 by a couple months."

"Wait, that means January," remarked Django, "I wonder if they're rushing to have a few of them ready by the time the _UNSV Joseph Conrad_ leaves Earth."

"Either way, it looks like the upload is complete," said Saito as she got to her feet, "alright. Powering up in 3... 2... 1..."

The actual awakening wasn't nearly as dramatic as Django had expected – maybe it just needed an appropriate soundtrack. What happened was just that each unit opened his or her eyes, looked around to get their bearings and test their sensors, and then slowly rose to their feet. "Good morning, Directors J. Lombardi and A. Saito," began the closest one of the three of them, the "male". "He" was 6'7" tall, with (so Django noted) a rather "Aryan-like" complexion, and a light accent that seemed a combination of English and Irish.

"Hi there, Mr. ...," Django quickly checked his notebook, "...VICI. From what I've been instructed, you'll be the one coming with Saito and I to L0 when we finally make planetfall a few days from now. By the way, VICI, I hope I'm not being obtuse here, but do you have any preferences for how you wish to be called informally, since that kinda sounds a little like 'Vicky'?"

"Rest assured, Director Lombardi, the colloquial vernacular of you organics and the gender connotations thereof are of no real concern nor consequence to myself personally," replied VICI, "however, if you must insist on an informal appellation for myself that you organics may comfortably employ in my presence, I will respectfully leave that task to yourself and Directress Saito to determine one for yourselves."

Django and Saito cast a sideways glance at one another. "Uh... okay, thanks," he replied, "we'll table that until later, once we get our expedition rolling at last. In the mean time, I'd like for you to please review and analyze the data we've collected from L0 so far." He then turned to address the second unit, the first of the two "females": "so... _VENI_ , yes? Good, we have a special assignment for you, straight from the _highest level_ and..."

VENI cut him off. "Director Lombardi, I have already been appraised of my directives to ensure the protection of our Planet EE-L4 Colony designated 'Autumn's Frontier', and specifically of the organic individual designated Director F. Kovacs. I presume that I am to take Valkyrie 02 when it departs from here with Inspector S. Lynn in seven day-cycles' time from now."

"...yeah," mumbled Django. _Fred, you lucky bastard,_ he thought to himself, _I wouldn't mind a Nexus-8 personal bodyguard too, especially what we're going up against_. He cast a quick glance over at VICI. _Okay, well, one that was pretty easy on the eyes anyway..._

The final unit was a "female" too, though she looked quite different from VENI. This time, Saito addressed her: "VIDI- _sama_ , Teller- _san_ has requested that you head immediately over to our Beautiful Horizon colony on the next shuttle, which will depart in the next few hours."

"Affirmative, Directress Saito," she replied, "I have already been informed of my mission objectives and parameters. Suffice to say, I speculate that, based on the latest available data, the success or lack thereof of Director Teller's next course of action will be highly contingent on my participation."

* * *

 _ **Footnotes**_ _: in writing this story, I intended VENI and VIDI to have "generic" appearances so that readers could use their imagination to "cast" an actress of their choice in the role (even the drawings I've done of VENI on the other website so far are more for "mood" than what she "actually" looks like). VICI, on the other hand, was always written with one specific actor in mind, and that actor, ladies and gentlemen, is Michael Fassbender! Right, so there we have it, and as always, please do review! Reading your reviews is always the most rewarding part for me, especially with a chapter like this and the next where we have some major developments..._


	7. Mir N' Voyna

**_Chapter 07: Mir And Voyna_**

Over the millennia, whether in the hands of Orc or of Men, the Black Gate Of Morannon had stood, flanked on either end by the Two Towers Of The Teeth, Carchost and Narchost. These latter two were erected much later when Gondor was at the peak of its grandeur and held the Gate. Now, once more did they belong to Mordor, a defiant bastion that projected confidence and impending doom against all those who would dare challenge the terrible will of the One True Lord Of The Rings.

At that moment, atop the central section of the wall, there stood two lowly Orcs standing guard. Their names were Krash and Lunk.

"Hey!" spoke up Krash.

"Yeah?" replied Lunk.

"You ever wonder why we're here?"

"One of Eru's great mysteries, isn't it?" said Lunk, "why are we here? Are we but constructs of rock and slime made through the sorcery of Melkor? Are we really the descendants of corrupted Elves, like some of the old tales suggest? Or are we actually just apelike animals deliberately bred and engineered by Melkor into a mockery of the Men and Elves? And what if there are other worlds with Orcs on them out there in the universe? How were they created? I dunno man, but it sure keeps me up at night."

Krash was confused. "Uh... what? I meant why are we _here_ , watching the Black Gate."

"Oh... uh... yeah," replied Lunk, looking down at his feet.

"What was all that stuff about 'other worlds out there in the universe'?"

"Uh, nothing."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay," said Krash, deciding to close the book on this matter, "seriously though, how in Valinor did we end up stuck with gate-keeping duties? It's kinda boring out here. If we're not leading the main assault into Gondor, it'd sure be nice to just stay at home. Just before I got drafted, I met this cute Orcess at my local pub. Man, she had the nicest rack you'd ever seen. And now I'm here, guarding a wall. Nothing exciting ever happens around here!"

"Well, it's boring, sure, but I s'pose someone's gotta do it," muttered Lunk, "someone's gotta guard the gates and make sure that Gondor or Rohan or the Elves don't try a counterattack and raid our homelands and terrorize our peoples or... hang on. Speak of the Valar, what have we here?"

In the distance, three figures had appeared from behind one of the slag hills of Dagorland; they were slowly but surely approaching the wall. Lunk squinted to get a better view, but all he could say for sure right now was that the three of them were all clad in gleaming white (which must have meant that they were Elves or Men, because honestly, when was the last time you ever saw an Orc in white? Unfortunately, the fashion industry in Mordor wasn't quite so imaginative nor existent at all for that matter). But as the figures drew ever closer and closer, it was apparent that they were indeed three Elven women, one with golden hair, one with flaming red hair, and one with dark brown hair.

"Well, well, well!" smiled Krash, "looks like we 'ave visitors!"

"Should we go inform Ol' Mouthy?" asked Lunk, feeling uneasy for some reason as he watched the figures approaching them with no sign at all of fear or doubt.

"Sure, why not? It's not like he has anything better to do all day," muttered Krash, "and if these 'ere _Gologs_ mean to pick a fight, better they take it out on 'im first, right?"

* * *

 **Site designated "Morannon"  
At the confluence of the mountain ranges designated "Ered Lithui" and "Ephel Dúath"  
Main Continent aka "Middle Earth"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5**

"I feel _ridiculous_ right now," muttered Captain Demya Raskalnikova as she looked down at the sparkling white gown she was made to wear today. The fake plastic ears she had to wear as well certainly weren't helping.

"Well, I used to want be a Disney Princess when I was six," smiled _Ryadovaya_ Giedre "Ghidrah" Valiuté, trying to cheer up her comrade. Demya only rolled her eyes. Of course, leave it to the blonde Lithuanian private, who had only too happily taken to doing the hair and makeup for all three of them that morning.

The wall ahead of them looked pretty impressive for a primitive culture, certainly more so than anything the natives back on Centauri were capable of. The Arcturus squad had been given the latest intel on this "Mordor", like satellite photos and whatever their new friends in "Gondor" had to say and whatnot. But still, one could never know what to expect until one actually faced one of these ugly _ublyudki_ face to face for the first time. She quickly checked to make sure her _Pistolet Makarova_ 800 was still there (personally, she preferred the 950-series, but the 800 was the only one they had with them small enough to be comfortably concealed in this gaudy fantasy cosplay outfit without being too obvious – not that any of these natives were probably acquainted with firearms yet, but Mr. Teller had insisted they try their best to keep up appearances).

"Don't draw your pistol unless absolutely necessary," commanded Demya, "let our _fearless leader_ here handle this. Remember: we're supposed to be 'geological surveyors' here."

"You mean 'geological surveyors pretending to be Elven princesses'?" giggled Ghidrah in response.

"Technically, the factions designated 'Elves' do not have any 'Princesses' at the current moment, according to my analysis of the data of the various indigenous polities and sovereign nations of this planet that was made available to me," spoke the leader of their group and the newest arrival on the planet. "We are merely impersonating the roles of Elven _dignitaries_ of high social standing, nothing more. However, if you wish to use the term 'princess' as a colloquialism as you organics tend to, I will accept that use of the term and refrain from any further corrections of your grammar."

 _Bozhe moi, you sound like my teacher,_ thought Demya to herself, _even Ike isn't that formal!_

The party of three halted when they were just a couple hundred meters short of the wall, just outside of archer range. "Okay..." said Ghidrah, looking around them, "so ... now what? Do we just wait here until someone eventually comes along?"

"Fortunately, it seems that we will not have long to wait," spoke VIDI, "my sensors are detecting activity on the other side of this fortification structure. Alert: it appears that they will be sending an as-yet undetermined number of ground troops to accompany their emissary. Whether they mean to attack us, or merely as an intimidation tactic, I suggest that the two of you be ready to expect the worst."

"Well, that's why they hired us," said Ghidrah.

Sure enough, a great creaking and rumbling sound could be heard, as one of the sections of the wall slowly began to open. And out through the open gates came ... wow, no wonder The Company™ thought these guys were the perfect poster 'bad guys', they sure looked the part. There were at least a hundred of them, maybe more, marching five abreast, the ugliest _lokhi_ you'd ever seen, and with the swords and spears they carried, they certainly must have meant business.

The leader of the party who rode atop a large black horse ahead of the column was a tall figure in a black cloak and a metal helmet covering all of his head save for his mouth, which stood a proud testament to the fact that their employer probably gave them the shittiest dental plan in the whole universe, given how his mouth was all rotten and cracked and oozing pus. _Ugh, someone get this poor fellow some chapstick and a toothbrush! And maybe a few breath mints too_...

The figure drew to a halt and then, with a voice that smelt strongly of flatulence and one too many drinks at the bar, he spoke: "my master, Sauron The Great, bids thee welcome." With that, he made a weird jerking movement with his head, as if possessed. Demya and Ghidrah both raised an eyebrow and cast a sideways glance at one another. _What the fuck is this guy's problem?_

"I thank you for granting us this audience, though I would like to inquire as to the name of the individual standing before us," replied VIDI.

"My name is remembered in no tale, for it is irrelevant," declared the figure, "I am the Mouth Of Sauron, on whose behalf I now speak! Tell me, is there any in your rout who has the authority to treat with me?"

"Affirmative," answered VIDI, taking a step forward confidently and beginning to recite the pre-arranged speech: "I am _Vidyë_ , and these are my companions, _Mir_ and _Voynyä_. Together, we are the appointed ambassadors of our peoples, and we come to lay before you the terms of a peace. Kindly relay to your superior the following:

"The sovereign state known as 'Mordor' and its allies, vassals, tributary states, and any other foreign agents, merchants, or privateers in its service, are henceforth to cease all hostilities towards all other sovereign states on this continent, including and particularly that known as the Kingdom Of Gondor. The armies of Mordor are to disband, all combatants are to disengage and return to their homes. Mordor is to withdraw and relinquish any further claim to the urban settlement designated 'Osgiliath', and the rural areas designated 'Ithilien', which are to be returned to the charge of the Throne Of Gondor by the end of this calendar year.

"Furthermore, Mordor is to pay reparations to Gondor in the amount that will be specified by our accountants once your forces are fully withdrawn and an accurate assessment of the wartime damages taken. Sauron is also to present a formal letter of apology for all transgressions and atrocities committed by his forces over the last couple thousand years.

"Finally, the mountain ranges known locally as 'Ered Lithui' and 'Ephel Dúath', including the regions of Cirith Gorgor and Udun located between them, are henceforth to be declared a demilitarized zone, and in doing so, Mordor is to officially recognize that it shall no longer pursue a military course of action except only in cases of national self-defense, and even then, said action will be reviewed by a council of representatives from each of the sapient races on this planet as to whether it constitutes a punishable violation of this treaty or not.

"Comply with these demands immediately, or we will be forced to employ drastic measures to ensure the safety of the Gondorian peoples, and of other innocent civilian lives threatened by the recent surge in adventurist foreign policy on Mordor's part."

VIDI paused when finished. Most of the orcs gathered there just stood still, completely dumbfounded by what they just heard. Even the Mouth too was visibly confused at first. But then, he just snapped his teeth in anger and growled: "miserable flower-blooded creatures! You dare insult the splendor of Sauron's Realm with your pompous belief in your superiority?"

 _Well, we are supposed to be Elves_ , thought Demya snidely.

"Still a cessation of hostilities would be preferable to both sides compared to the unnecessary bloodshed that could result from a non-compliance with these terms," she replied.

"The Men Of Gondor shall receive what is coming to them!" spat the Mouth, his breath as putrid as ever, "as shall Lothlorien and Mirkwood too for this insolence! The Realms of all Elvenkind will burn for this!"

"Ambassador Mouth, I must insist one final time that your reconsider your current foreign policy," explained VIDI, calmly, "long ago, organics of both the Elven and Human species inflicted a severe military defeat upon your civilization, and we shall do so again if necessary for the defense of our lives, liberty, property, and the pursuit of happiness."

"Bah! I spit on your life, liberty, and pursuit of property!" sneered the Mouth, "and so that this message is not lost on your fellow _Gologs_ , I shall begin by sending them your heads! Attack!" With that, the Mouth turned and fled the scene, while columns of orcs behind him immediately growled and charged forward, spears and swords waving in the air.

"Bingo, that's all we need," muttered Demya to Ghidrah. Instinctively, the two of them reached down for their Makarov pistols, and in one swift motion, drew the weapons from their concealed hiding places, cocked them, and flipped off the safeties.

But VIDI was already on the move, charging forward with inhuman speed and finesse, the white silk folds of her disguise flowing through the air. In the time it had taken even two professional mercenaries to draw their pistols, she had already charged forward and was upon the first two orcs. They tried to stab at her with their spears, but she dodged each thrust; on the second thrust, she grasped the spear with both hands, and with great strength, swung the entire spear (along with the fellow holding) around in a great arc, and right into the first spearman. Both orcs crumbled onto the ground. Still clutching the spear in her hand, VIDI then paused, took aim, and threw it.

The Mouth Of Sauron at that moment was fleeing back to the wall atop his horse; the spear flew through the air, crossing the hundred feet or so in the blink of an eye, and struck him right in the back of his head with enough force to punch clean through him and emerge out the other side, right out of his mouth. The dark figure fell limp immediately and tumbled off his horse, onto the ground.

"Does anyone else wish to negotiate?" inquired VIDI politely. For a second, the 98 or so remaining orcs just stared at her stupidly. Then, one of them roared in defiance and charged forward, and the rest of them followed, converging on the three all at once. "I shall interpret that to mean a negative response," she remarked, "Captain Raskalnikova, Private Valiuté: I recommend that you pull back to a secure location; I will handle the bulk of these hostile forces." She continued to speak calmly as she drove her fist right into the chest of the first orc with enough force to dent his armor inwards, shatter all of his ribs, and send him flying backwards right into the two orcs charging right behind him.

"VIDI may have a point," came the voice of Ike, the mercs' own A.I., over the earpiece that Demya was wearing, "if the UN is watching this, perhaps it would not do to reveal the true extent of your martial prowess just yet. I suggest that you and Private Valiuté withdraw to the hills due west of your current location, just out of view, and await further instruction." Demya stood there for a minute, watching the battle unfold before her eyes; it didn't feel right running away from a fight, leaving VIDI alone (even if she could probably handle herself from the look of it), but it was her job, and so she obliged.

"Alright, to the rocks!" ordered Demya as she and Ghidrah turned and ran as fast as they could (with Demya quietly thanking God that Ghidrah chose sandals instead of high-heels when she picked out their wardrobe that morning. _I dunno, did Elven princesses even wear high-heels?_ Ghidrah certainly thought so, but to her credit, knew better than that for this situation).

* * *

Several minutes later, the two (not)Elven Princesses stopped somewhere in the hills to get their bearings. Ghidrah crouched down behind one of the rocks.

"Alert!" came the voice of Ike in Demya's earphone, "we have detected a second group of hostiles inbound from the south. Warning! One of them appears to be several times larger in volume and mass than his counterparts."

Demya cast a glance at the large rabble of orcs skittering in their direction, some hundred meters or so away from them. Sure enough, leading this pack was a huge hulking brute of a creature, like a monstrous scaly ape standing some six meters tall and swinging about a club larger than her. "Hmmm... they have a troll," she observed.

"Indeed," replied Ike, "I am analyzing the realtime scans of the creature in question as we speak; while certainly stronger and far more durable than its smaller counterparts, it is not entirely indestructible; I would advise you to aim for weak points such as the eyes."

"Leave the big one to me," smiled Ghidrah as she stepped forward and held up... a Dragunov SVD-12 Model 2132 Sniper Rifle.

Demya promptly did a double take. "Uh... what? Where did you get _that_ from?"

"When we were dropped off, I had one of the boys hide it here in these rocks in case we needed it," replied Ghidrah, nonchalantly. With that, she calmly and expertly took a moment to adjust her aim, take account of wind, hold her breath, and fired a three round burst. She then adjusted her aim again, and fired two more bursts.

 ** _BA-AH-ANG! BA-AH-ANG! BA-AH-ANG!_**

All nine 7.62x54mm Armor-Penetrating Explosive rounds struck the creature's head and penetrated into its skull, exploding inside; the dome of the skull amplified the nine individual bursts, quickly liquifying anything left inside. It still took a few more seconds for the rest of the lumbering creature's body to realize it was dead before it finally keeled over.

Ghidrah smiled, and turned to face her comrade. "Here, I won't be needing this anymore," she held out her Makarova. Demya took it, loaded a fresh clip, and cocked it. Ghidrah, meanwhile, switched her setting from burst-fire down to semi-auto, and continued to line up shots and take them, taking care to change her position ever three or four shots, and quickly changing out the whole clip when it ran dry.

Anywhere else, most people took Private Valiuté to be a bit of an airheaded bimbo, which to be fair was something she kind of brought upon herself whenever she wasn't in uniform. Her squadmates, of course, knew better. Demya imagined that the two of them must have made for quite a sight, two "Elven Princesses" in flowing white embroidered silk gowns, one with a Dragunov and the other dual-wielding pistols.

"A dozen hostiles are breaking off from the main group," observed Ghidrah as she loaded her third clip, "they're heading to cover; they're probably gonna try to go around us."

" _Blyad'_ , you think they're finally using their heads?"

"It's probably a standard tactic they use against archers," said Ghidrah, "as far as they know, we're Elves, and our bullets are arrows, just smaller and faster and noisier too."

"Alright. Hold this position, I'll deal with these flankers," ordered Demya. She was down to her last two clips, so she put the second Makarov away.

"These humanoid creatures seem to rather disorderly and uncoordinated," observed Ike, "perhaps to terminate their leader would suffice to demoralize and put the rest of this unit to flight."

Demya grunted in response as she followed the path down to the southern end of the hill, moving as fast as she could in that ridiculous wedding gown. Sure enough, there were about a dozen of them there charging up the path and...

"AAAARRRGGHHHH!" screamed one of the orcs as he emerged out from his hiding spot immediately to Demya's right. He swung his evil rusty blade down in one fell swoop.

But she swiftly dodged it, honed by years serving in the Legion, across Earth and throughout the Colonies, and then, to conserve ammunition, instead of shooting him, she smashed in his face with the grip of the pistol. The creature stumbled backwards, dazed, giving her enough time to reach down with her free hand, draw her service knife from where she kept it hidden inside her dress, and drive it right into his throat. She then turned around and fired off her pistol, one bullet to each target, changed the clip, and continued.

"So, Ike," she asked when she was done, "which one is the leader again?"

* * *

Back at the gate, the few surviving orcs had finally taken the hint and were fleeing the growing carnage post haste.

"Screw this!" roared Krash, "I dunno 'bout you, but I'm gettin' the fuck outta 'ere right now!"

"The big boss won't like this one bit," muttered Lunk.

"I'll take him over that... _witch_ any day!"

A shrill, Wilhelm Scream was heard as one of their fellow orcs went sailing through the air right above them, and smacked right into the walls of the Black Gate with a loud THUD.

"On second thoughts... yeah," agreed Lunk. And with that, the two of them ran for their lives.

* * *

 **Falcon 01, 6,000m above ground  
Somewhere above the Sector designated "Rohan"  
Main Continent aka "Middle Earth"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5**

"Ah-uh," said Jonathan Teller as he spoke into his phone, "got it. Thanks for notifying me, Angela. I'll see you when we get back to base within the hour then." He hung up, and turned to face the three other passengers riding with him in the shuttle, all looking considerably less elegant now than they had been on the flight out there this morning, what with their gowns now all ruffled up and muddied (and bloodied) during the fight.

"So," he began, "here's what's going on. First of all, good job down there. I'm no expert in ground warfare, but I know it can't be easy fighting off two-hundred angry natives even with guns. You guys did superb!"

"All in a day's work," smiled Ghidrah as she calmly brushed her hair, removing all the twigs and dirt and pieces of orc stuck in it.

"So do we get war or no?" asked Demya, "this _mudak_ Mr. Mouth attacked us in middle of peace talks."

"Uh, that's where it gets complicated," said Teller, somewhat apologetically, "on one hand, this, ahem, 'totally unprovoked attack on our emissaries' has given us the legal _casus belli_ for Mr. Lynn to approve the institution of an official state of war between us and Mordor."

"So what's bad news?" asked Ghidrah.

"On the other hand," continued Teller, "it's not as total as we would have liked it. For now, we're being authorized to provide more military aid and economic assistance to Gondor than what we were initially permitted. That's good. But on the other hand, we can't yet just arbitrarily send our own forces to attack Mordor or any of its allies, not without a legal 'compelling justification for intervention'. And we definitely can't bring in the nukes and orbital kinetic strikes yet, not unless it's an absolute last resort to prevent an act of genocide or ethnic cleansing or something."

"Which probably would have happened anyway, even without this little mission," fumed Demya, her patience running low.

"Look, I know it's not quite what we were hoping for, but it's something, and it's a good precedent for any similar operations we may plan to run on the other planets," said Teller, firmly, "now, I have one more mission that I'll need you guys ready for here on L5. After that, I'm having you transferred over to L0 now that our expedition there is _finally_ underway."

* * *

 _ **Footnotes** : this chapter was a fun one for me to write, as I wanted a little of everything: comedy, action, and some politics as well. Basically, as we've seen, The Company™ has a reason for wanting to provoke Mordor, but they also have a reason for disguising their "diplomats" as Elves, which I'll post in the reviews section of this story. Also: last time, some of the readers requested a glossary of all the "Russian" spoken in the chapter, so here we go (warning! Strong language):_

 _1\. "Voyna i mir": "war and peace" (this chapter's title is a pun on Tolstoy's War And Peace, with Demya and Ghidrah using the words "Voyna" and "Mir" as "Elven names" and modified slightly to sound like Sindarin, the main Elfish language)._

 _2\. "Ryadovaya": female form of "Ryadovoy" ("Private/Soldier")_

 _3\. "Ublyudki": "motherfuckers"_

 _4\. "Lokhi": "fuckers"_

 _5\. "Bozhe moi": "oh my God!"_

 _6\. "Mudak": "asshole" (a_ _s you may have noticed by now, most of the "Russian" spoken in this story is swearing)_

 _7\. This chapter also features the word "Golog" spoken by the Orcs, which, to the best of my research, is the Orcish word for "Elf" (and thus, why it's used pejoratively here, by Krash and Lunk, and by the Mouth Of Sauron too)._


	8. The Twin-Tailed Comet

_**Chapter 08: The Twin-Tailed Comet**_

 **The Emperor (I)  
**  
The golden rays of the morning sun broke over the horizon and glimmered off the dome of the Great Temple Of Sigmar. The City of Altdorf, glorious capital of the Empire Of Man and home to some half a million souls, lay sprawled out across the confluence of the mighty Reik and Talabec Rivers, like a patchwork of houses and cathedrals and the unique profiles of each of the eight Imperial Colleges Of Magic.

And overlooking this all from atop his balcony in the Imperial Palace, there stood Emperor Karl Franz I, Protector Of The Empire, Defier Of The Dark, Elector Count And Grand Prince Of Reikland, Prince Of Altdorf And Count Of The West March. At that moment, his mind was puzzling over the most unsettling news that had just been brought to his attention in the early hours of the morn...

"So tell me more about this 'Twin-Tailed Comet' of yours," he commanded as he turned around to face the table behind him, where sat several others.

"Your Majesty," replied the elderly Arch Chancellor of the Imperial College Of The Celestial Order, bowing respectfully, "you must forgive me. I had not seen the sight for myself, as I was asleep at the time, and was only awoken later on by one of my magisters; he and two lowly apprentice-level wizards too had observed the phenomenon first hand."

"You trust in the words and expertise of these two apprentices?" asked _Reiksmarshall_ Kurt Helborg, Grand Marshal Of The Reiksguard, skeptically, who was also seated at the table.

"Let him speak," cut Supreme Patriarch Balthasar Gelt Of The Gold Order, his voice muffled slightly by the expressionless gold mask he always wore over his face. "The star-gazers and star-readers of the Celestial Order are second to none else in the Empire. Even the word of a journeyman-level wizard carries some weight on matters of astrology."

"And when you tried to read the great astrolabe, what future did you see?" inquired the Emperor.

"It was... difficult to see exactly," admitted the Arch Chancellor, "it appeared only briefly, and the movement was like none we have ever studied before in Azyr, the Lore Of The Heavens. But... they were able to track its speed and trajectory to some extent. In the last few hours since it appeared, the rest of the faculty have studied and poured over the findings extensively. We speculate that the comet may have indeed have landed... and that it currently lays somewhere in the far northeast of here, possibly in the vicinity of the Middle Mountains."

"You are sure of this?" asked the Emperor, narrowing his eyes.

"As far as we can discern, yes, Your Majesty."

"Then perhaps we should send a message dispatch out to the Elector Counts of Middenland, Nordland, Ostland, and Hochland immediately," suggested Helborg, "warn them to be wary of any usual activities, and report to us immediately."

"Aye, caution would be advisable," agreed Gelt, "before now, the Twin-Tailed Comet has only appeared twice in the last thousand years: at the doom that befell Mordheim, and then again but a couple decades ago."

 _Ah yes, Luthor's protege_ , thought the Emperor to himself. He paced back and forth across the balcony for several minutes, thinking it all over. _Sigmar, what can this mean?_ Without thinking of it, his fingers instinctively tightened around the grip of Ghal Maraz, the legendary warhammer of Sigmar Heldenhammer himself. At last, he spoke: "assemble the Griffon riders," he commanded sternly, "and bring me Deathclaw."

"Your Majesty, you intend to investigate this phenomenon for yourself?" inquired Helborg.

"Whether it is a blessing from Sigmar himself, or a foul trick of the Ruinous Powers at work, or perhaps nothing at all... regardless, I have a very clear incentive to know just what exactly this 'Twin-Tailed Comet' is."

* * *

 **The Prophet Of Sigmar (I)  
**  
The crowd of true believers and the faithful had swelled its ranks; some of the local villagers from nearby Aukrug and Hasselhund had come to join, after the heavenly spectacle that had appeared in the early hours of the morn. Some, cautiously optimistic, took it to be a benediction of Sigmar himself. Others among the rabble, however, could be seen instead crying and wailing, flagellating themselves, proclaiming that the End Times were nigh upon them.

There had already been at least five deaths since last night, mostly from fights that had broken out between several smaller groups within the rabble. But from small beginnings as these can great unrest and tumult arise. He knew that unless something was done fast, the gathering of the faithful might very well tear itself apart from the inside, at which point, even the most pious could become easy pickings for the influences of the Ruinous Powers...

"Now hear me, brothers and sisters!" cried Father Luthor Huss as he rode back and forth in front of the assembled crowds atop his blindfolded steed, his hammer held high for all to see, "I intend to ride north! I intend to find this Comet for myself! And I intend to learn the true meaning of its appearance! Now... I will not try to hide it from you that the road before us is long, and fraught with peril! But know deep down in your hearts that a man with faith and courage can overcome even the foulest of terrors! Sigmar Protects!" With that, he bowed his head in reverence, making the sign of the Hammer, a motion that was quickly followed suit by the rest of the crowd. Good, that had done its part in quietening them down somewhat. Now for the hard part, getting on the move.

He turned to face the tall, strong young man who strode alongside him. "Stay by me at all times," he muttered to him, "perhaps it is time for you to fulfill your destiny. But if it is instead fell sorceries at work, then whatever happens, we must keep you alive at all costs."

"Yes, Father Huss," replied Valten, obediently.

* * *

The Forest Of Shadows had come alive... with nightmares.

Through the trees they moved: hundreds of them, no, _thousands,_ their cloven hooves beating upon the ground, eery shrieks and beastly growls echoing among the trees, accompanied by the droning of war horns and the beating of primal drums. The Warherd of Malagor The Dark Omen was on the move.

* * *

 **Landing Site Alpha,  
Future Site Of Colony [TBD]  
Main Continent,  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L0**

Just an hour ago, this place had been nothing more than a clearing in the forest. Now, the whole area was bustling as two Valkyrie shuttles had landed together and disgorged hundreds of personnel and dozens of vehicles, containers, and prefabricated housing units into the area. The whole affair was surprisingly well organized and coordinated; thanks to The Company™'s rigid adherence to timetables and use of software to coordinate everything, everyone knew their place. Here, three HULK units were busy rolling each container out of the rear cargo ramp of one of the two Valkyries. There, another three HULK units were at work, expanding the clearing, chainsaws clattering away as they ate into the ancient trees that surrounded them. Elsewhere, an excavator was trundling along, demarcating the line where the perimeter fence would eventually be erected. No stone was being left unturned.

When the _Horizonte_ first left Earth 7 months ago, the plan had been that there would be two colonies established on L0 since it was the largest and most resource-rich of the planets. However, the discovery of an 'Exo-Human' civilization since then had certainly complicated things... as had the discovery of this so-called 'magic', and the fact that some of the indigenous inhabitants of this world were rather... _hostile_ , for want of a better term...

The three or four prefabs that were to form the basis of the new command center were still being unloaded out of Valkyrie at that moment, so for now, the heads of the expedition were to meet in the large open air tent that had been hastily erected. James "Django" Lombardi stood outside for a few minutes, giving orders to several of the site foremen and engineers, and then strode off inside, where some dozen others were all already seated.

"Lt. Archer? What's the latest?" he asked as he took his seat. He had to raise his voice a little, since there was a lot of noise from all the commotion and work going on all around them.

"Mr. Lombardi," saluted the officer of the Colonial Marine Corps. He held up a holo-tablet, showing a holographic map of the surrounding area for all to see. "I have Sgt. Murphy's unit patrolling the local area just north of our position right now; they haven't reporting anything yet. Sgt. Rashid's squad meanwhile is setting up an auto-turret and motion sensor grid on our southern perimeter. Now, our chosen landing zone is a little isolated, but let's be honest here: the plasma contrails from both Valkyries will be visible for hundreds of miles in every direction, especially with that approach vector that took us across most of this continent; we shouldn't be surprised if quite a few of the natives saw us and decided to investigate."

"Right," said Django, "say, tell me again, are you sure there wasn't any better angle of approach?"

"Negative, Mr. Lombardi," answered Lt. Torrin "Tori" Holmen, Pilot of the United Nations Star Fleet, shaking her head. "The bizarre EM radiation from the poles – uh, 'magic' – interferes a little bit with the navigation. We could come in as steeply as we did on L4 and L5, but it's just much safer to take a longer and more gradual approach vector."

"Leave the EM flux to us," spoke up Dr. Richard Garrett, Company™ Science Division, "I was part of the team that developed the EM scrubbing tech that finally allowed the _Horizonte_ to come out to this system in the first place; give us a few weeks, and we'll able to clear up some of that interference."

"Speaking of which," spoke up Akane Saito, "how soon will our laboratory be ready, Garrett- _san_?"

"The basic field unit is easy enough to set up," replied Richard, "we'll start off today with basic experiments, seeing if the universal gravitational constant still applies on this world or not. By tomorrow, we'll have some of the more advanced prefab units ready to go."

"The bio and medical labs will be operational within the hour," spoke up _Frau Doktor_ Silke Mertesacker, " _Frau_ Muysenbergh und Di Stefano are on that as we speak."

"And what about the Chemistry Department, Barath- _san_?" asked Saito, turning her head to face the other end of the table.

"The chemical plant will take at least two more days to set up," said Dr. András Barath, "I'm leaving that to the engineers. In the mean time, Van Der Merwe and myself are going to investigate some of the local mineral deposits around here."

"The minerals can wait," said Django, "I want all priority allotted towards this 'magical' research for the next month. I know the iridium and yttrium deposits around here are rich like anything, but let's focus on what's really unique about this world: magic. It could be its greatest resource, or a danger to us all, but whichever one it is, it's better we find out sooner than later. For the next month, security, 'thaumic phenomena research', and diplomacy with the locals will be our three priorities."

"A wise course of action, Director Lombardi," commented VICI from where he stood at the far end of the tent.

He turned to face the last four people sitting at the end of the table, all UNASEC types: an inspector, a scientist, a third person he couldn't recall the name or position of, and of course, Captain Müller. He was "just" the captain of the _Belo Horizonte_ , but he was a tall, stern, and rather authoritative figure, a veteran serviceman of the UN Star Fleet, and thus, one whom everyone, even the UNASEC inspectors, all looked up to for guidance. That, and once it was found out that the natives of this part of the planet spoke some derivative of German, it seemed a no-brainer to bring the captain along to serve as an interpreter, and a possible ambassador to these natives...

"Captain, thank you again for agreeing to join us for at least the first month," said Saito.

"My pleasure, _Frau_ Saito," replied the Captain, nodding curtly, "I am sorry to say this, but your colony will need me more than the _Horizonte_ will if these reports are anything to go by."

Django didn't doubt it. As the most dangerous identified world in the system, all three of the remaining Colonial Marine squads on the _Horizonte_ had been called here, these being Archer's, Murphy's, and Rashid's. By contrast, there were two over on L5, Rico's and Harris', and only one stationed on L4, Hawthorne's. Once defenses were in place, Archer's unit would return to the _Horizonte_ to lay in reserve, ready to respond to a situation on any of the other two worlds. But the Captain himself they hoped to keep on as their unofficial emissary: Django supposed he was the cool, hard, authority figure that the natives at least could come to respect.

Either way, the colony's security was sure to get a boost once they were able to hire a native militia from amongst the natives, like what Fred and Daniel already had going on over on L4 (and not to mention the 'geological survey team' was also bound for this world once they were done with one more little errand Teller had for them over on L5).

"If I am not mistaken, Director Lombardi," interjected VICI, "I believe that leaves one final item on our agenda before we disperse to our separate duties."

"Thanks for the reminder," said Django. He turned to address the others: "well, I suppose now comes the fun part. We have to decide on a name for this place. Now, on the ride down here, one of the guys suggested a good one, and most of us on our shuttle thought it was actually pretty cool. It's..."

* * *

 _ **Footnotes:**_ _so after nearly a year of readers waiting patiently, the Warhammer expedition is finally being shown! The chosen name of the colony will be revealed next chapter, so stay tuned._


	9. Crimson EquinoX

**_Chapter 09: Crimson EquinoX_**

 **Somewhere outside of space and time as we _currently_ understand it...**

The being watched in both curiosity and eager anticipation as the strangers from beyond went about their menial work, blissfully unaware of what was coming their way.

For ages beyond count, the entity had gambled and played with the fates of this world and all upon it, constantly constructing and crafting his innumerable and infinitely intricate plans and plots, some with a definite goal in mind, far more others made simply for the sake of plotting and seeing what new and interesting results could and would occur.

For all of its great power, the entity was still beholden to this world, unable to reach out to the other worlds it knew lay just beyond, so tantalizingly out of its grasp. But these strangers, these wayward voyagers on the other hand... if they could move between worlds as simply as they could with their non-sorcery...

Perhaps.

First, however, it was time to test their mettle and see what they were truly made of.

* * *

 **The Emperor (II)  
**  
The City Of Wolfenburg, Capital of the Imperial Province Of Ostland, was far smaller less Altdorf. But all the same, it was the largest city in The Empire's north-easternmost region, and as such, a vital and ever defiant bastion against the gathering darkness in the far north. Like the hardy peoples who inhabited it, the city was rather grim and austere in appearance, replete of most of the wealth and lavishness that one could find in Altdorf or Marienburg, and the central castle was no exception.

At that moment, in what passed for the Wolfenburg palatial grounds, two men emerged from within the central keep and strode out into the courtyard. "So you came out here to the east intending to investigate this phenomenon yourself, my Lord?" inquired Count Valmir Von Raukov, Grand Prince Of Ostland.

"Indeed," replied the Emperor, "one can never exercise enough caution in times like this. Let us not forget what occurred the last time the Comet was seen."

Count Valmir grunted in response. "Speaking of which, Huss and his cult are here in Ostland. They passed through here last month before heading onwards north. Could they perhaps be... related?"

"Whether they are or not, there is only one way to be certain," replied Karl Franz as he turned away from the Count, and looked ahead of them. There, standing before the two men, was a magnificent beast, easily three times the height of any horse, and with perhaps a couple hundred times the strength, eight gleaming black talons, each sharp as any of the Runefangs, digging into the ground.

And yet at the same time, there was an air of nobility and loyalty about it that made such a strong and deadly creature stand and wait quietly and patiently while its master had been conducting his vital affairs of the state, and to now bow its head now that he was returning. With a great heave, Karl Franz pulled himself up and over onto the back of the creature (no mean feat for someone in full plate and carrying Ghal Maraz in one of his hands), settled into the saddle, and clutched the leather reins tightly in his hands.

"Whatever happens, Count Valmir," he concluded, "whatever we may find, I will make sure that word sent to Wolfenburg within the next few days." And with that, he turned to face forward, thrust Ghal Maraz straight up into the air, and shouted: "DEATHCLAW, YIP YIP!"

The huge griffon reared back its head and let loose a shrill eagle-like call that rang out across the castle grounds, and then it took off, beating its great wings furiously, the thick muscles in its shoulders pounding furiously, rising into the air. Other shrill cries were heard in response as the twenty or so other griffon riders who made up the Emperor's honor guard took off from their respective stations. Trained and honed over the years as they were, the elite griffon riders of the Empire and their feathered beasts were able to maintain a well ordered formation as they set off as one heading north over the Middle Mountains, out towards the Forest Of Shadows...

* * *

 **Main Command Center  
Colony Designated "Crimson EquinoX"  
Northern Sector Of The Central Continent  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L0**

"How many?" asked Django as he looked over the satellite video footage.

"About 4,000 or so," replied Watson, one of the lowly electronics and communications engineers, "mostly on foot, but with a few mounted."

"They do not appear to be a proper organized military force of any kind," observed VICI, "while a small fraction of these approaching indigenes do bear some form of armaments and armor that are as advanced as any within the capabilities of an organic civilization of this level, the vast majority of this group appear to be little more than armed civilians at best. Conclusion: based on the behavior and hierarchy we can observe, I speculate that these indigenes are members of a religious denomination ... one not too dissimilar in appearance and form to those that you organics regularly formed during your own more primitive ages."

"Do they mean us harm?" asked Saito, some concern in her voice, "some of them look like an angry mob out on a witch hunt, like out of a holo-movie."

"Yeah, as far as I know, some of our stuff around here could appear to be the work of witchcraft or something to these religious nutjobs," chided Watson as he cast a glance at all the machinery and vehicles at work, clattering about just outside the collection of several prefab units that formed the colony's main command center for the time being.

"Analysis of the footage suggests that curiosity rather than direct hostility may be their primary motivation," continued VICI, "nevertheless, Engineer Watson is correct as to how our presence on this planet could be received by these indigenes. Director Lombardi, I recommend that we take the initiative in actively contacting them; preferably, some distance away from our colony."

"Herr VICI is right," spoke up Captain Müller, who had been sitting quietly until now, "Company™ or UN, the safety of this colony is my primary concern right now. If these people are a threat, I would rather they be dealt with before they're knocking on our doors, even with our perimeter defenses now online."

"Then it's decided," said Django, "VICI and I will go and speak to the leader of these natives."

"I'm coming too," said Saito, "this colony is as much my responsibility as yours."

"Uh... that's not a good idea," muttered Django, "if... things turn out for the worst, one of us should stay back here and..."

"Django- _san_ , as I have said before," insisted Saito, firmly, "this colony is my duty as well." Django cast a glance at VICI, who simply shrugged, and decided this matter was not worth pursuing any further.

"Müller- _san_ ," she continued, turning to face the Captain, "we would be honored if you would join us as our interpreter. VICI here is fluent in every human language, including _Doitsugo_ , which I'm told is similar to these natives' tongue, but we would like to have a senior representative of the UN too present if possible."

" _Jawohl_ ," replied the Captain, "we will take Herr VICI and Sgt. Rashid's squad with us. Sgt. Murphy will follow close behind, in case we need additional support. Lt. Archer will remain back here at the colony for defense. For this mission, I recommend that we take the Wild Cats, but we should still have both Falcons fired up and ready to launch at a moment's notice, Gott forbid that we need them." He paused. "Herr Django, Frau Saito, I also recommend that we notify Lt. Holmen to have the Valkyrie too ready. In an absolute worst case scenario, we abandon _everything_ here and evacuate all personnel back to the _Horizonte_."

* * *

 **The Prophet Of Sigmar (II)  
**  
To many people, he was a saint. To many others, he was a madman and a fanatic, and a dangerous threat to the decadent establishment. Few disagreed however that Luthor Huss was a leader who could inspire faith and zeal, and yet restraint and diligence at the same time in keeping his rabble together. It had been a few days since the First Comet appeared and his followers and he had set out in search of it. Since then, two more Comets had been seen, each one ever closer than the last. It was their Prophet's calm that had kept them from outright panicking, but Luthor knew for sure now that they were drawing close unto the site with still nary an idea of just what they would find...

"Father Huss!" called one of the knights, a devout but otherwise quiet and reserved man by the name of Ulryk. From where they were riding at that moment, Luthor and Valten looked ahead to see the knight racing back to them, post haste.

Brother Ulryk Of The Drakwald had been one of a handful of professional warriors who had forfeited his titles and lands to pledge his cause to Luthor's crusade, and it was in this capacity that he faithfully served, helping to arm and train an elite (well, relative compared to the rest of the members of what was probably more a peasants' mob than an army) core of armored warriors to help protect the faithful and enforce the Will of Sigmar.

Ulryk and some of his fellow horsemen had been scouting and riding ahead of the main body of this pilgrimage. But evidently, he had seen something that greatly behooved him. Luthor frowned. He knew that the forests in these parts were dangerous, that one could always encounter brigands and roving bands of Beastmen and the occasional raiders from the North who had slipped through Kislev unopposed, and hence, why travelers and pilgrims always banded together for strength in numbers. But the thing is: Beastmen, fell loathsome creatures as they were, were at least something not unknown to tried and tested warriors like Ulryk. Whereas at that moment the priest could see that the knight had found something else entirely.

"Brother Ulryk," spoke Luthor, "what is it that troubles you?"

"Father Huss!" began Brother Ulryk again as he made the sign of the hammer and bowed, "we have encountered a... uh, they wish to parley with you."

"Who is they?" asked Luthor.

"A band of foreigners."

"What kind of 'FOREIGNERS'?" demanded one of the other knights, Brother Indryk. "Kislevites? NORSCANS?"

"Neither," replied Ulryk, "they were... well, they appeared to look just like us, for the most part. They... even spoke Reikspiel."

"They look like us, and they speak like us. How do we know for sure they are foreigners?" inquired Valten, ever the idealistic young man (or what passed for 'idealistic' in dark times as these).

"Because of how they dressed," replied Ulryk, "because of how they behaved. And because of the... strange devices and sorceries they brought with them."

"They practice WITCHCRAFT?!" sputtered Indryk.

Ulryk nodded slowly. "They claim that the Comets we have been seeing... was them."

"They came from the Sky?" asked Valten, furrowing his brow.

"Aye!" replied Ulryk, "in ships that can fly!"

"A SHIP that can FLY?" spat Brother Indryk, incredulously, "that sounds like the work of HERESEH to me! Show me these 'SKY-PEOPLE' and their ABOMINATION, so that I may PURGE it with HOLY FIRE!"

"Why do they wish to meet me?" asked Luthor, trying to focus back to the original question.

"Father Huss, I cannot say for certain. But there were only 'bout a dozen of them. Perhaps they are intimidated by our numbers, and wanted to meet somewhere more neutral."

"BAH!" sneered Indryk, "they need only FEAR us if they bear the TAINT of the DARK GODS upon them! That they REFUSE to come seek YOU out in person tells me that MAYHAPS they mean to LURE you into a TRAP!"

Luthor made the holy sign of the facepalm and shook his head. "Brother Indryk," he reminded him calmly, "a true man of faith need never fear the Fell Powers even when alone. But if you do genuinely fear for my safety, perhaps you would care to join me, Brother? I may have need of your zeal at my side."

Sure enough, about a mile further was the place where Brother Ulryk had agreed upon to meet. They were all there, a mix of men and women, including one who looked like she might be from far-off Cathay or Nippon, a man who looked to be from Araby or possibly as far away as the Kingdoms Of Ind, and one man who spoke Reikspiel but looked to be half of the Empire and half of the Orient. Also among them was a tall but lithe blond man who had a most peculiar way of speaking. About half of these "Sky-People" appeared to be warriors who wore some kind of plate armor painted green and carried what looked only vaguely like the flintlock handguns of the State Troops of the Empire (including several units of handgunners that had joined Luthor's crusade).

One of the Sky-People, who appeared to be their leader, stepped forward and held out a hand in greeting to the priest. " _Guten tagge, Herr Huss_ ," he spoke in accented Reikspiel, "I am _Kapitän_ Hans Ulrich Müller, and I wish to extend formal greetings in peace on behalf of the peoples of _Erde und Die Kolonien_."

* * *

 **Rendezvous Point  
40km SW of Colony designated "Crimson EquinoX"  
Northern Sector, Main Continent,  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L0**

Capt. Hans Ulrich Müller was a veteran officer in the United Nations Star Fleet (UNSF). But there were just some things that training and tours of service to the Tau Ceti System just could not prepare oneself for, and today was one of them.

The man standing before him, the leader of these natives, looked like something that crawled right out of some bizarro crack-infused Heavy Metal and Gothic fantasy convention that only some, I dunno, big British games developer who overcharges fans for their products would throw on. He was a priest, so they said, but one clad shoulder to toe in plate armor and grasping in one hand a pretty gnarly looking hammer. In conduct he seemed reasonable enough – well, by Earth standards, he would have been a complete religious fanatic. At least he seemed to accept that other gods were worshipped, provided that these gods were not aligned with 'Chaos' (and given what he had seen on the satellite surveillance of this world over the last month before making planetfall, Müller had a good guess as to just what exactly the word 'Chaos' was referring to).

His followers were a colorful lot – their appearance, clothing, and behavior reminded the Captain of history lessons and movies he had seen about the Teutonic Knights or the Knights Templar. One of them, "Brother Ulryk", seemed a quiet but decent enough human being, not least of all because his name sounded similar to the Captain's own. He even looked somewhat similar to the photos he'd seen in the reports from L4 and L5 about those natives named 'Ned Stark' and 'Boromir' or something to that effect. He quietly thanked _Gott in Himmel_ that it was this Ulryk who had contacted them first, as opposed to the priest's other lieutenant...

Ah yes, this "Brother Indryk Of Boreale" seemed quite the piece of work, and served to remind Hans that as much as one could laugh in retrospect at some of the fanaticism, close-mindedness, and sheer backwardness of Earth's own Middle Ages, to actually now be meeting someone not too different in character could be a rather disturbing experience. It was clear that only Herr Huss's influence was keeping that Rottweiler on his leash. On one hand, Hans was glad to keep his UNCDF service pistol on him at all times; on the other hand, he did not fancy the thought of provoking an unpleasant incident just yet.

The natives spoke some language they called 'Reikspiel', that sounded similar enough to his native _Deutsch_ that he was able to have a coherent conversation with them, but as they went on, he noticed that the two languages didn't exactly line up completely, like a lot of phrases that sounded like it came from the time well before Von Goethe, and even words that Hans recognized as coming from English, Dutch, and... _Latin?_ Hans spoke the former two fluently enough, but all the Latin he knew was from a few history classes back in the UN Military Academy.

"So," asked the tall youth standing next him, the one named Valten, "your devices are not magical at all?"

" _Nein_ , Herr Valten," explained the Captain, respectfully, "and we apologize for any panic and confusion our presence here may have caused among your, uh, _followers_."

"And yet you come to OUR world to CLAIM that which is NOT yours to take, completely IGNORANT of your one true LORD and SAVIOUR SIGMAR?!" sneered Herr Indryk. Fortunately, from what he concluded, this was the young zealot's normal way of speaking, and it did not resolve itself into physical action... for now. Hans rolled his eyes and glanced at Django, Saito, and VICI.

Just then, Sergeant Rashid strode up to his side and addressed him in English: "Cap'n, we have a situation that needs your urgent attention." Hans politely excused himself from the conversation, leaving VICI and their UN inspector, Herr Alpers, in charge of conversing with the priest and his retinue. He, Django, and Saito quickly strode back to where one of the Wild Cat Light Utility Vehicles that they had driven here from the colony was parked, hidden from the natives' view by the trees. There, he found the rest of Sergeant Nasratullah "Tully" Rashid's squad, gathering around Private Thompson, their electronics expert, who was fumbling frantically with his holo-tablet.

"What is it?" asked Saito.

"One of your satellites just alerted me to a second group of bogeys inbound to this location," replied Thompson, "I dunno, I think these new natives may be even less hospitable than our new friends here." He pulled up the live-feed on his holo-tablet...

 _Oh, Scheiße_...

"I believe these organics are members of a rather aggressive anthropomorphic species that our Biological Department has designated _Homo ungulatus_ ," observed VICI.

Thompson nodded glumly: "thermal scans place these guys at about 10,000 of these mutant freaks."

"The colony," gasped Django.

"Oh, the colony will be just fine," remarked Sergeant Rashid, "our auto-turrets and acoustic defenses are all online and operational." He paused. "No, it's our new native friends here who are totally screwed."

Hans turned back to look in the direction they had just come from. Even through the trees, a mile away, he could see the thousands of the priest's followers, who had come to a halt and were patiently waiting about while their leader had come to parley with them. _Thousands of men, women, and children were standing right there._

Hans sighed, and closed his eyes. "Notify Lieutenant Archer immediately to bring out our reserves. We are going on the offensive."

"Is that wise, sir?" asked Sergeant Murphy, "do we have enough troops? We should pull all personnel back to the colony and..."

"The mission of the United Nations is to protect and serve humanity; _all humanity_ ," interjected the Captain, firmly, "if we do nothing but hide behind our perimeter fences, thousands of innocent civilians will die. And because _we_ led them _here_ to their graves. Get the Falcons and the Wild Cats ready to roll out. And tell Holmen to bring the Valkyrie here as well; we're going to try to _airlift_ as many civilians out of here as we possibly can." With that, he turned and quickly strode off back to where Ambassador Alpers was making some decent headway in his conversation with the natives.

"Herr Huss," began Hans, interrupting the talk, "what I am about to show you may shock you, or perhaps you may have encountered others like them before, but I am showing you now because it is imperative that I know, for the lives of my people and yours as well." He held up the holo-tablet and played the live footage for all to see.

The effect among the natives was to be expected. There were murmurs and some cries of surprise from amongst them at this display of "sorcery". Several drew their swords, or made a quick prayer gesture of some kind. And of course Indryk certainly had something to say on the matter.

"He carries a TALISMAN of the CHILDREN OF CHAOS!" cried the fanatic, waving his hammer madly, "HERESEH, I say!" The Colonial Marines standing behind Hans immediately raised their rifles.

But Luthor Huss remained calm. "Stand down, Brother," he commanded before turning to face the Captain. "Lord Müller, what is this?"

"This 'seeing device' of ours is not magic, and had we more time, I would happily have it explained to you how it works," said Hans, quickly, "but that is irrelevant right now. What I need to know is this: are these creatures hostile or not?"

"What creatures are these, you ask?" replied the priest, ominously, his grip tightening around the grip of his hammer, "a thousand wretched forms united only by a hatred that never ends. Malign and savage to the last, they brim with bitterness for the works of Man. You may have felled the trees. You may have built a wall. But the forests are the grounds of the Beastmen, and they will not rest until your homes are ground beneath their cloven hooves, and your flesh rotting in their guts."

"Okay," replied Hans, "because right now, 10,000 of them are heading in this direction."

Huss was silent.

"Father Huss!" cried Valten, "our people are in danger!"

"Listen," said Hans, "we can get your people to safety, but only if we work together. So I need to know, are you in this or not?" He held out his hand.

Luthor looked at him for a second, muttered a short prayer, and grasped the Captain's hand with his own. "Sigmar Protects," declared the priest. He turned to face his followers: "Brother Indryk! Brother Ulryk! Prepare for battle! Have the women, the children, the sick, and the elderly moved to safety! Have every able-bodied man we can spare assembled at once!"

Ulryk bowed, muttered a short prayer, and ran off to follow through with his orders. Indryk too, visibly unhappy as he was not to smite these heretics just yet, saluted the Prophet and strode off to gather his fellow Teutonic Knight-wannabes...

"BATTLE BROTHERS!" shouted Indryk, proudly raising his hammer high for all to see, "today, the ENEMEH is at OUR DOOR! We know our DUTEH, and we WILL do it! We fight for our HONAH! We fight for our FAITH, and in the name of SIGMAR! And if we DIE this day, we DIE in GLOREH! We die MARTYRS' DEATHS! BUT ... we shall NOT DIE! NO! It is the ENEMEH who shall taste DEATH AND DEFEAT! As you know! We are the _SIGMEHREENS_! We are SIGMAR'S FUREH!

"Uh... _Sigmarines?_ " asked Hans, raising an eyebrow, "really?"

"As you mayhaps have noticed by now, Brother Indryk is one who takes his duties to the faith with a little more alacrity and zeal than most," explained Luthor.

* * *

 _ **Footnotes** : similar to the "Russian" spoken in previous chapters, here is a glossary of any Japanese or German used in this chapter._

 _Doitsugo (_ Japanese _) / Deutsch (_ German _)_ : "German language _"_

 _Jawohl_ : "yes sir!"

 _Kapitän_ : "captain"

 _Erde und die Kolonien_ : "Earth And The Colonies"

 _Gott im Himmel_ : "God in Heaven"

 _Scheiße_ : "shit"


	10. Battle Brothers I

**_Chapter 10: Battle Brothers Part I_**

 **Somewhere else ... another dimension? Another universe? Who knows?  
**  
The being continued to watch with ever growing excitement as the mortals went about, rushing to prepare themselves for what they now knew was coming to them thanks to that device of theirs that floated far above the world. They knew they were outnumbered, yes, and lacking in true sorcery and command of the Winds Of Magic, but like most other mere and foolish mortals, they showed no fear or resignation to their fates as they readied their arms and armies for the coming battle, defiant to the end. Regardless of whatever happened and whoever came out on top, the results most certainly promised to be interesting.

With a mere thought and wave of a hand that existed in more than just five meager dimensions, the being conjured a table before him out of the swirling empyrean energies of the Warp. He smiled and congratulated himself on his creativity; it was a tabletop whose eldritch surface had been moulded and crafted and painted in substances both material and immaterial alike, to represent that place upon the world that the mortals had chosen to be their battleground. Several hundred small figurines, each moving and squirming and growling and whatnot, stood upon the tabletop, to be moved about to represent the actions and movements of those on the mortal plain beneath him as their battle unfolded.

The being took the briefest of pauses to consult his army codex, smiled, then conjured up a pair of D6's and cast them to see who would make the first move...

* * *

 **The Dark Omen (I)  
**  
The thundering of hooves and the brays and grunts of ten thousand fell creatures echoed through the trees. Above them all, a single figure could be seen gliding through the canopy, carried aloft on dark wings that really should not be able to fly, but did so anyway because ... you know, Chaos magic or something.

Malagor The Dark Omen, shaman and self-proclaimed "Doom Of Civilization" himself, was on a mission. Visions he had seen in the Warp had led him and his herd to this point, eager to seek out the Comet and see what it had brought to this world. By some coincidence, as he found out, a band of the meager men who worshipped a false idol and foolishly defied the will of the true gods had strayed into their path. No matter, they would be slaughtered and eaten as easily as all the other villages that the herd had thundered through on their way here.

Suddenly, above the great din of the warherd, there came a new sound. Malagor snapped his jaws in contempt; the sound was the voice of one of those weak and miserable manlings, though far louder than he expected. It spoke clearly, in what he recognized to be some form of Riekspiel: _"ATTENTION! This is the United Nations. Your presence has been noted and deemed a possible threat; please desist from your current approach, or we will be forced to take defensive actions."_

Of course, he was quick to dismiss this petty display of arrogance of these manlings, as was much of the rest of the herd. The innumerable Gors and Ungors and Minotaurs and warhounds and other creatures of the darkest forest marching across the ground below him began to quicken their pace, caught up in the excitement of the slaughter about to follow.

The voice was heard again: _"I repeat: halt immediately and turn back, or we will be forced to take defensive actions. This is your last chance!"_

Again, the herd paid no heed, as at last, the forward units had broken the treeline and emerged out onto the open fields. Up ahead lay the humans, arrayed in their scrawny and pathetic battle formations. A great roar broke out from those in front as war horns were blown and the charge began. Time to kill. A gory and glorious day for Chaos Undivided was surely to be had.

* * *

 **The Prophet Of Sigmar (III)  
**  
Luthor Huss could smell the oncoming herd long before he either saw or heard them. He _hated_ Beastmen with a passion; he hated _everything_ that was a blasphemy against Sigmar, but Beastmen held a special place for his wrath for he had fought them for as long as he could remember. He thought back to all those years ago, to the family he had lost as a boy to the Children Of Chaos that had led him to join the faith, to the first time he had beheaded a shaman at Weismund many years later, and his grip instinctively tightened upon the hammer he carried in his right hand.

"STEADY, MEN!" he shouted out as he rode his horse back and forth just behind the frontline, "whatever may come our way, remember that you are warriors pledged to the faith of Sigmar! You will hold your ground! You will not run! You will honor your oaths, and protect the innocent and devout!" At this cue, he promptly bowed his head in penitence and made the sign of the Hammer. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that many of the troops around him repeated his motion of prayer. Good. It meant that the fires of righteous fury that burnt within each of them would keep them standing and fighting long after ordinary men would tire and break.

All around him, the men were still struggling to organize themselves into formations of pike and halberd, with small gaps at regular intervals that would allow the archers and handgunners positioned directly in front to pull back through once the enemy had closed distance. Valten, meanwhile, and several other warriors would lead the women, children, and elderly to safety whilst Luthor and the main bulk of their forces held the line. To the south of his position was where Brothers Ulryk and Indryk would lead the Sigmarines and whatever other mounted warriors they had into a flanking attack. The northern flank, on the other hand, was being held by the Sky-People. Luthor did not trust them completely yet, but they had shown a commitment towards the cause of Sigmar (even if they did not worship him), and in any case, he did not exactly have any other options.

Just to his right, there stood the leader of these Sky-People, the one named Captain Müller. He was grasping a device that looked like a horn made of white metal, and that when held in front of his mouth, would amplify his voice in a manner not too different to some of the spells occasionally used by some of the Imperial Mages (and more occasionally by those who served the Dark Gods, particularly the Prince Of Pleasure...), except that like their other devices, this one did not use any form of sorcery. Luthor quietly wondered to himself if he too may ask to use that device to relay orders and bestow blessings and prayers amongst the men. This so-called "megaphone" might also prove useful when preaching his sermons outside of the battlefield...

The Captain frowned. "Well, as expected, diplomacy sure didn't work."

"Whilst I find your ideals and efforts admirable, I am sorry to tell you that any attempt to reason with the Children Of Chaos is doomed to failure," spoke up Luthor, "these are the most loathsome of creatures who desire nothing less than the destruction of all that is built by the hands of man. Their only cure is to be purged, and quickly."

"So things are really that black-and-grey down here after all?" noted the Captain of the Sky-People, glumly, as he put away his speaking device. "A shame. Fortunately, on Earth, we have a saying: 'speak softly, and carry a big stick'." He reached down for the other device he carried on his belt. It was a large black pistol, though one very different from the flintlocks of the Empire. It was made entirely of metal, with a large box at the front, a long thin barrel, and a second tube on top, which looked similar to a looking glass, and which Luthor reasoned must have been used for aiming the gun.

"That is a ... impressive pistol," noted Luthor, unsure what to make of this Sky-People weapon; he would be lying to himself if wasn't expecting something a little ... larger and more awe-inspiring, given that the Sky-People claimed they had the power to sail the void between the stars themselves.

" _Danke schön_ , Herr Huss," replied Captain Müller, "Model C900 Mauser semi-automatic pistol; product of Galaxiewerke AG. German engineering and precision at its finest. But I know what you're thinking, and no, this is only for my personal self-defense, since I am technically 'just' an observer and not an actual combatant. Our main offensive should be beginning right ... now."

Sure enough, when Luthor turned to look north, he saw something bursting out of the trees and moving towards the enemy positions at great speed. It was followed close behind by several other large objects – the "horseless carriages" of the Sky-People, so was told. He suspected that he and all the others in this army were in for a real spectacle.

* * *

 **42km SW of Colony designated "Crimson EquinoX"  
Northern Sector, Main Continent,  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L0**

The first Wild Cat Light Utility Vehicle, Number 05, sped along the selected course, its immense 44-inch tires chewing up the soil and brush beneath it as it accelerated forward. Three more Cats and two "Lynx" scout motorcycles followed close behind.

From where he sat in the front passenger seat of Cat 05, Sgt. Nasratullah "Tully" Rashid frowned as scanned the treeline ahead of them. Even from here, even with his Mk7 Ballistics Helmet w/ Breather on, he could have sworn he could _smell_ the creatures that swarmed from out between the trunks in their thousands, rushing forward towards the battle lines of the native humans that were forming just south of them (and looked positively paltry compared to the rabble now converging on them).

 _Ugh_ , he admitted to himself, _ugly motherfuckers, all of them... li_ _ke something that crawled out of some Satanic bible_. They may tell kids "never judge a book by its cover", but right now, he felt that creatures that fucking hideous just _deserved_ to be exterminated, if mainly as an act of mercy.

"Gosh darn it to heck, that's a whole lotta 'em!" exclaimed a voice from behind, that of Pvt. Callum "Cale" Sanders, who was standing up in the open rear of Cat 05, in the gunner's position.

"What's the matter, Private Sanders? Chicken?" teased Private Lucille "Lucy" Scott, who had the wheel, seated right next to Tully.

"Who you callin' chicken?" replied Cale.

"Knock it off, you two!" barked Tully, "Scott, take us close but not too close; we'll sweep the front once, and then once we get to the southern flank, we'll wheel around and pinch them in the ass; hopefully, that'll relieve some of the pressure they're gonna throw against our native friend's frontline. Sanders, gave them a taste of the Gau, see if that scares them. If not, though, switch to normal ordnance; we haven't got bottomless mags here." He then connected his comlink to the rest unit in the vehicles behind them. "Alright, listen up! Katsaros! I want Cat 07 following us and covering our tails! White! Brovlovsky! You two will take Cat 06 and 08 north and harass their northern flank! Remember to keep your distance. Other than that, orders are simple: if it looks like it's got too much fur, kill it! Alright Marines, roll out!"

"OO-RAH!" came the unanimous replies over the com.

"GET SOME!" shouted Cale, almost orgasmically, as he leant down and took his position behind the rotating podium in the rear of the Cat that held the main gun ... a GAU-19Z triple-barreled .50-cal rotary heavy machine gun, with co-axial M250 Avenger SAW and 20mm automatic grenade launcher. The barrels on the GAU began to spin rapidly...

 ** _BBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP_**. **_BBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP_**... went the GAU as Cale fired two bursts, sweeping the entire length of the treeline in front of them.

 ** _BBBBBBRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPP_** went the second GAU right behind them, the one manned by Pvt. Schenk, stationed on Katsaros' Wild Cat.

The effect was immediate, as hundreds of bodies seemed to crumple or be completely shredded in half, and two dozen of the smaller and thinner tree trunks were felled just like that by the relentless stream of .50 cal munitions. Good thing the GAU at least used caseless ammo, else the entire cab would probably be flooded with ejected casings by now...

"They're still coming," scowled Tully, "bastards clearly want to die after all. Sanders, switch to Avenger; we'll need to conserve the GAU in case they bring anything heavier."

"Yes sir!" replied Cale as his right hand quickly and instinctively moved from the trigger of the GAU to that of the co-axial SAW mounted right next to it. He took a split second to adjust aim to account for the smaller gun's lower recoil, and fired.

 ** _DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA ...  
_**  
Sgt. Rashid too joined in as he fired his Stacker Assault Rifle into the horde as Cat 05 made its drive-by, expertly driven by Pvt. Scott. He cast a sideways glance to his left, at the lines and formations of the native human forces, due east of their position. If these natives were amazed by the sight unfolding before them, it was impossible to see from this distance. But, all things considered, they must have been making quite the impression on their newfound local, uh, "friends" (for now).

* * *

 **The Dark Omen (II)**

From atop his canopy perch some ways behind, Malagor scowled in rage and beat his wings furiously. The visions he had been gifted by the true gods had warned him that the strangers were unlike anything any on this world had ever seen before, but he had not expected something like this. And now the cowards were coming at them in ... what were they called? Wild Cats? WILD CATS?! "Our enemies hide in METAL BAWKSES!" he roared in frustration and gnashed his teeth, "THE COWARDS! We ... must take away their METAL BAWKSES!"

As if in agreement, a thunderous roar arose up from the trees behind him. Something huge was moving through the forest. Malagor smiled. He had not yet played his best piece on the table; no that would be a _pleasant surprise_ he would keep for the Sky-People. In the mean time, as he could see, the rest of the Warherd was still moving forward; whatever losses he had taken were not enough to bring them to a halt, and the first wave of Ungors and Gors were not converging onto the pathetic, weak spearline made by the weakling men. Perhaps soon it would be time for he too to join in the melee...


	11. Battle Brothers II

**_Chapter 11: Battle Brothers Part II_**

 **Valten (I)  
**  
"How far now, Lord Alpers?" asked Valten.

One of the three leaders of the Sky-People stopped to look at that strange device he wore around his right wrist, before turning back to answer his question. "Not far, Herr Valten; the landing zone is just over this hill."

Valten would be lying if he didn't admit that these Sky-People and their strange words and ideas confused him, but right now was no time to question Sigmar's gifts in bringing these foreigners to their aid.

He looked back. Right behind them were some two thousand people; mainly the women, the children, and the elderly, whoever had been among Luthor's following who were otherwise unable to join the main battle line in staving off the forces of the Dark Gods. Valten knew that with Father Huss and most of the men there, they now were looking to _him_ for guidance in this darkest hour.

He sighed. It just didn't feel right to be fleeing from the fight, leaving Father Huss and all the other brave defenders behind. But Luthor himself had ordered that he lead the women and children to safety whilst the men held the line, and he could understand his reasons: if, Sigmar forbid, Father Huss and the others were to fall that day, it would all fall upon Valten's shoulders to take up his hammer and lead his crusade. But that was a burden he did not know if he was ready to accept.

Suddenly, the Sky-People in front him stopped. One of them, the tall one who went by the name of "Viki", had apparently sensed something; he spoke to the other Sky-People leaders, including the ones named Lord Lombardi and Lady Saito, in a language that Valten could not understand. He then turned to face him and addressed him in Reikspiel: "Mister Valten, for your information, it would appear that a smaller group of these hostile indigenous lifeforms is scouting ahead of the main force; they have bypassed the main battlefield altogether, and are now located somewhere in this general area. Director Lombardi has instructed that I deal with this new matter personally."

"I will join you," spoke Valten, firmly, "these people are my followers; their protection is my burden to bear."

"You sure about this?" asked Lord Alpers, "Herr Huss requested that you be kept safe and..."

He was cut short by several screams and cries of terror from behind, followed by several bestial snarls and other animalistic sounds. Valten turned around and saw the source of the commotion: several hundred feet away, a group of about forty or so Gors had emerged from the foliage, and were rushing at the crowd of tightly packed civilians, their twisted horns and weapons glinting in the daylight.

In a split second, Lord Viki was already on the move, sprinting right past Valten. He blinked in both awe and disbelief for a split second as he watched the Skyman in action, barreling towards the marauding creatures of Chaos with inhuman speed, grace, and yet beneath it all, a raw power and ferocity, almost like a Demigryph. And then, almost instinctively, he too joined in the charge, clutching his hammer tightly, and ran forward, his legs carrying him as fast and furiously as they could manage. Up ahead, he could see that Lord Viki was already locked in combat, grabbing one of the attackers by the arm ... and _tearing_ the hairy arm clean out of its owner's shoulder.

"FOR SIGMAR!" shouted Valten as he too threw himself into the melee...

* * *

 **Ulryk (I)  
**  
Brother Ulryk Of The Drakwald had once been a lowly knight of the Middenlands and a follower of the Wolf God Ulric. That was before he had converted to the Cult Of Sigmar, and renounced all of his lands and holdings to join Father Huss in his personal crusade against the Ruinous Powers. Over the years, he had fought all across the Empire, and against every form of foe, from the wretched Greenskins, to the depraved Dark Elves and nefarious Norscans who sometimes saw fit to raid and pillage the Empire's coasts.

But in all his years, he had never seen anything quite like the scene that unfolded before him. The remarkable horseless carriages and powerful weapons of the Sky-People were simply a wonder to behold, even from this distance, as he looked on in disbelief as a single volley of fire from one of these carriages. The closest contraption he could think of were the Steam Tanks of the provincial armies of some of the Empire's wealthier provinces, perhaps crossed with an Imperial Hellblaster volley gun, though even that comparison was a long shot at best. All he cared for at the moment was that hundreds and hundreds of Gors and Ungors seemed to melt before these lightning-fast vehicles and their rapid-firing guns.

But alas, even they were not enough; for every foul beast they killed, it seemed another five were ready to take its place. And Ulryk too realized that even the Sky-People and their wondrous devices were ultimately limited by the amount of shot they could carry. Sooner or later, they would run out. And it now looked to be sooner than later.

Sure enough, more and more Beastmen were emerging from the woods by the second, and were now rushing forward towards the line where Ulryk now stood. Just in front of the main infantry line, the archers and handgunners had taken their positions, and were already all firing away at the oncoming horde, releasing volley after volley of arrow and shot. The great cacophony in the air of bestial sounds and Sky-People weaponry (and also, so Ulryk noted, the recognizable shouting of Brother Indryk Of Boreale, who was some ways south of him, commanding the Sigmarines) was joined by the swishing of arrows flying through the air, and the discharge of hundreds of flintlocks, the clouds of smoke and the smell of black powder (which helped somewhat mask the putrid musk that arose from the filthy creatures, but not by much).

"READY MEN!" bellowed Ulryk as the orders were given and the ranks of archers and handgunners retreated through gaps in the main line. "PRESENT ARMS!" Sure enough, hundreds of pikes and halberds were lowered into place, presenting a nearly solid wall of steel points in the enemy's direction. "HOLD STEADY!" he shouted, and then quickly bowed his head and muttered a last minute prayer to Sigmar, and looked back up to see the horde now descending upon them.

He grimaced slightly. They were _hideous_ , all of them. There were the Ungors, of course, the lowest castes of the Warherd, which seemed to look like men for the most part, but much hairier, with cloven feet and two small horns protruding from their scalps. There were the Gors, who made up the bulk of the herd; blasphemous couplings of man and goat and cow and Sigmar knows what other creatures as well. The Caprigors (the goat-like ones) and the Bovigors (the quite literally bullheaded ones) were by far the most common, but there were other types as well. Some of the Beastmen had the heads of dogs or cats; one he could see from here had the head of a snake. There were some who looked like they had some parts of insects as well, like mandibles and mantis-like arms and multiple eyes.

And there was one Beast(wo)man who seemed to have the body of an undraped woman, and the legs and head of a blue-skinned equine, with a horrible mane and tail of many different garishly bright colors. He shuddered at the sight of such a loathsome abomination walking upon the world of Men. And in the background, he could even see four or so towering figures, lumbering about amongst the rest of the herd - either giants or Ghorgons, though at this point, his attention was too fixated on the creatures just in front to take a closer look. Ah yes, and the smell ... THE SMELL! Like a putrid mix of animal musk, wet hair, and unwashed bodies mixed with rotting intestines and excrement and other things that he dare not imagine what they could possibly be.

And then the herd crashed into the first line, and all Hell broke loose.

Up and down the front, blades clinked and clashed against each other, and man and beast both growled in rage or screamed in pain as they were mauled or stabbed or ripped apart entirely. The Pikemen and Halberdiers held stubbornly, Sigmar bless them, and swordsmen, macemen, Flagellants, and Sigmarite priests alike hacked and smashed creatures apart in melee with their swords and maces and hammers. At several points in the line, the horrible hulking monstrosities had managed to puncture their way through the pikes though sheer weight of numbers; it was up to the swordsmen and other reserve forces to shore up these holes.

Just in front of him, Brother Ulryk saw a pikeman collapse to the ground as one Beastman managed to work its way past his pike and charge right up to him and rip his throat out with its jaws. He blinked in horror; it was the blue-skinned equine one with the garishly colored mane, its jaws foaming and dripping with the blood of the poor pikeman it had just taken a nibble out of.

Gripping his greatsword tightly in both hands, Ulryk dashed forwards as fast as his legs could carry him. The Beast(wo)man neighed the most hellish neigh imaginable, and ran forwards at him, ready to sink its twisted teeth into his face. But Brother Ulryk was not having it. Quickly and expertly, like the knight he had been trained to be, he had already raised his sword to high above his head, held it there for the blink of an eye, and brought it down with all his strength. "BE GONE, FOUL ABOMINATION!" he bellowed, as his greatsword struck the top of the creature's hell with enough force that it dug down deeply and made its way down to the neck, cleaving the entire head clean in half. The vile beast's foul rainbow-colored blood and brain matter sploshed everywhere. He then, in one motion, pulled his sword out and then thrust it forward again, this time downwards, right in the beast's black heart. When fighting the Children Of Chaos, one takes no chances.

As the beast's corpse collapsed upon the ground, he stood back and shouted: "BATTLE BROTHERS, FOR SIGMAR!" The men around him who heard him shouted back, rallying to the cause, their fighting spirit renewed. The front line had taken a beating, but it was holding, strong and firm. He grunted in satisfaction.

And then there was a great **_RRRRRAAAAAAWWWWWRRRRR!_** that echoed across the battlefield, and off in the distance, something huge came crashing through the trees and out onto the field.

"Hmm ... they have a Jabberslythe," muttered Ulryk, "oh ... crap."

* * *

 **42km SW of Colony Designated "Crimson EquinoX"  
Northern Regions, Main Continent,  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L0  
**  
"DUDE! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?!" shouted Pvt. Cale Sanders.

"I HAVE NO FUCKIN' IDEA, BUT IT NEEDS TO DIE NOW!" shouted Sgt. Tully Rashid back.

The satcom had warned them that something the size of a sauropod dinosaur was moving their way; what it hadn't warned them was just how _ugly_ that piece of shit was. It looked like some bastard lovechild of a dragon, a toad, and a praying mantis, with sickeningly green skin that looked rotted enough that even moss and fungi were growing all over it, and a pair of two tiny membranous vestigial wings that it had evidently outgrown seeing as how it trudged across the ground on six ponderous clawed legs. The monster's horned and pudgy face, covered in multiple staring eyes and pustules, was enough to give even a trained UNCDF Marine nightmares.

The monster roared again, and was starting to charge its way across the field, barreling straight towards the battle lines of the native humans. Rashid hated to imagine what this giant green turd would do to the ordinary men holding the line with nothing other than spears and swords. Pvt. Sanders seemed to have the same idea, and immediately switched from the Avenger back to GAU, and once again, the three Gatling barrels began to spin.

 ** _BBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP_** went the gun as it fired a burst, strafing the side of the creature; it seemed to pause to roar out in pain as bursts of florescent green blood erupted from up and down its flanks (and Rashid couldn't help but notice that the ordinary beasties standing right next to it seemed to melt upon contact with the creature's putrid blood). It turned to look away from the battle lines, and instead looked right at the crew of Wild Cat 05 with its horrible dozens of eyes. It roared, and began to stomp in their direction.

"I think we made it angry," said Pvt. Scott.

"SHIT, THE GAU'S DRY!" shouted Cale.

 _That tends to happen when you'e firing 2,000 rounds per minute..._ "LUCY! DRIVE! NOW!" hollered Tully. Pvt. Lucy Scott didn't need to be told a second time as she floored the gas pedal (though the Wild Cats actually ran on electricity) and gunned the engine, the Wild Cat immediately zipping off across the battlefield. But the giant turd was hot on their heels, charging with a speed that was incredible for such a large and ponderous creature.

 _FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK_ thought Tully as he looked forward to see where they were going. Lucy was an expert driver and the Wild Cat was capable of up to 230km/h on a proper road. But the path ahead was less a road and more an obstacle course and quagmire of mud, tree trunks, clumps of twisted vegetation growing everywhere, and hundreds of the smaller half-beast/half-man creatures slithering and crawling about; the Cat even ran over a few of them (though they probably would have been crushed by the ginormous turd chasing them, since it seemed to have little regard for distinguishing between friend and foe alike). He cast a quick glance at the rearview mirror and saw the monster gaining on them, its gaping maw dominating the view in the mirror and beneath it the words WARNING: OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR.

Suddenly, something long and pink and slimy came shooting out of the monster's mouth; like some giant frog out of hell, it was trying to snatch them with its tongue. The foul appendage struck something in the back of the Wild Cat; the entire vehicle shook, and Pvt. Sanders stumbled backwards.

"CALE!" shouted Lucy and Tully together. The sarge immediately turned around and held out his left hand, grabbing hold of Pvt. Sanders, while with his right hand, he pointed his Stacker AR and fired a burst. It was impossible to aim the Stacker properly with only one hand, such was the recoil, but the creature's monstrous pink tongue was a sufficiently large and close enough target that he didn't need to. And unlike the rest of the beast's thick armored hide, the flesh of its tongue was soft and easily penetrated by the burst of 7.62mm munitions.

The monster howled a most ungodly sound in pain, and its tongue retreated, but not before snatching whatever it could in the rear of the Cat. It grabbed one large object, and retreated back to its owner's mouth.

"SHIT! HE ALMOST HAD ME!" shouted Cale, "And now we're low on grenades too, I ..." he paused, and glanced back at the creature, and at the large metal box it had snared with its tongue, the lettering DANGER: EXPLOSIVE clearly visible on the side...

Tully knew at once what he was thinking; he raised his Stacker and took careful aim, but this time, he fired the under-attached grenade launcher, sending a single 20mm grenade flying right into the creature's mouth just as its jaws were snapping shut, the grenade striking the side of the box it was chewing on.

There was a muffled _boom_ , and then then, a split second later, the monster's head exploded in a shower of green bile and sludge and bits of sickly fetid flesh. The rest of the behemoth's now headless body seemed to take a second to realize it was dead before it finally came crashing down onto the ground, crushing several of the smaller beasts that were standing too close to it.

"YEAH! Eat that, motherfucker!" shouted Tully. And then there was another loud roar, and off in the distance, he saw _another_ creature similar to the fallen one crashing through the trees and out onto the open field.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" shouted Cale.

The second monster began to lumber towards where Rashid could see that Katsaros' unit were driving Cat 07. Pvt. Anja Schenk, who was manning the Gau on that vehicle, opened fire, but they too were running low on the .50-cal, and just like the first creature, this beastie too had a body large enough to soak up quite a few shots before it would go down...

Just then, a solid glowing beam of light appeared out of the sky, and struck the abomination right in its head, melting a hole right through it. This was followed shortly thereafter by a series of smaller explosions that rocked the area around the monster, destroying both it, and hundreds of the regular beasties that were standing around it. Sgt. Tully heard a familiar sound droning over the din of the battle, and looked up to see a dark shadow swooping low above them.

The comlink in Tully's helmet crackled with the voice of Pvt. Katsaros over in Cat 07. "Sarge, is that what I think it is? Is that ... _Sammy Hagar_ I hear?"

* * *

 **Approx. 100m Above Ground Level  
42km SW of Colony designated "Crimson EquinoX"  
Northern Regions, Main Continent  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L0**

 _"Head bangers in leather,  
Sparks fly in the dead of night,  
It all comes together,  
When they turn off the lights,  
50,000 Watts of power,  
And it's pushin' overload,  
The beast is ready to devour,  
All the metal they can hold,  
Reachin' overload, ready to EXPLODE!_

 _"It's your one-way ticket to midnight,_  
 _Call it heavy metal!_  
 _Higher than high, feelin' just right,_  
 _Call it heavy metal!_  
 _Desperation on the red line,_  
 _Call it HEAVY METAL NOISE!"_

The loudspeakers both within the cabin and outside on the fuselage were blaring guitar riffs and Sammy Hagar's voice as Lt. Margaret Wright of the UNSF sat at the controls of Falcon 06, flying low over the battlefield, strafing everything in sight with the shuttle's nose-mounted Markalite-12 Medium Pulse Laser. The choice of today's soundtrack had been that of her brother, Gunnery Sergeant Marcus Wright of the Colonial Marines, who coincidentally had also been assigned to this mission, and was sitting in the cargo area of Falcon 06 at that moment along with the rest of Lt. Archer's squad. He said listening to some classics always did wonders for the troops' morale.

"We're coming up on the target zone," called Lt. Margaret over the com.

"Acknowledged," replied Lt. Raymond Archer, "alright, you heard her! Eyes on the target! Wright! Put on psch-war operations, make it loud! This is Romeo Foxtrot; shall we dance?"

"Hell yeah!" spoke up Sgt. Marcus Wright, "it'll be just like old times, sis!"

"If only mom and dad could see us now," quipped Lt. Marge Wright.

Marcus smiled as he held up his MyPhone, which was jacked into the Falcon's sound system, and hit 'skip' to the next song on his playlist...

 _"I was caught, caught in the middle of a railroad track (Thunder!)  
I looked 'round, and I knew there was no goin' back (Thunder!)  
My mind raced, and I thought what could I do? (Thunder!)  
And I knew there was no help, no help from you. (Thunder!)  
Sound of the drums, beatin' in my heart,  
The thunder of guns tore me apart!  
You've been ... THUNDERSTRUCK!"_

Meanwhile, a warning light began flashing as the sliding doors on both sides of the cabin were slid wide open ... and the two door guns popped out, a single M2134 Minigun on each side. Sgt. Wright was manning the Gat on the starboard side, while the Gat on the port side was being operated by Pvt. Paul Katanga, also of Lt. Archer's squad. At Lt. Archer's command, both door gunners opened fire, and sent glorious streams of glowing metallic death raining down upon the battlefield, whilst all the while, the loudspeakers continued to blair...

 _"I was shakin' at the knees,  
Could I cum again please?  
Yeah them ladies were too kind,  
You've been ... THUNDERSTRUCK!  
Yeah, yeah, yeah, THUNDERSTRUCK!  
Ooooh ... THUNDERSTRUCK!"_

Lt. Wright made the first pass over the battlefield, strafing and vaporizing everything ahead of her with the Pulse Laser, while the door guns were clattering away. Just behind her came Lt. Yoji Kuribayashi, piloting Falcon 07, who was doing the same. When she reached the edge of the combat zone, she pulled a quick Herbst maneuver, rapidly reversing direction, and then flew back and made another pass over the battlefield. This time, in addition to the Pulse Laser, she also fired one of the two missile pods mounted on one of the wing hard-points, releasing a swarm of a dozen Hydra missiles that shot ahead of the Falcon and landed somewhere in the forest, rocking the entire area with a series of explosions in rapid succession.

"Outstanding, Lt. Wright, outstanding. Get you a case of beer for that," spoke up Lt. Archer.

Suddenly, the radar HUD in front of her flashed a warning, indicating new contacts in the area. She checked to see what was going on. Sure enough, the satellites were now tracking some 20 or so unidentified flying objects in their vicinity; they were moving nowhere near as fast as the Falcon, but they were moving as fast as any terrestrial bird-of-prey could fly, and the men on the ground could be exposed ...

"Sir, we've got bogeys inbound," spoke Marge, "they don't look very large or fast, but there's a few of them. Permission to pursue and engage?"

"Shit, the beastie boys have air support too?" scowled Lt. Yoji over the comlink, over on Falcon 07.

"Can we get a visual?" replied Lt. Archer's voice.

"Yes sir," said Marge as she pulled up the real time satellite video on her HUD, "yeah, it's another beastie alright; like some fusion of an eagle and a giant tiger or something ... hang on, it looks like there's a normal man riding on it."

"Negative, Lt. Wright, stand down," came the voice of Captain Müller over the radio, "our new friends down here have informed me that griffons at least seem to be good guys aligned with The Empire, so they may be here to help. Stay focused on the ground targets, just in case the natives bring any more giants or those ... Herr Huss, what are they called? _Jabberwockies?_ Point is, don't open fire on those griffons unless they attack us first. Over and out."

* * *

 **The Emperor (III)  
**  
Riding high above the battlefield on the great back of Deathclaw, Emperor Karl Franz couldn't help but feel confused and amazed both at the sight that was unfolding below him. Thousands and thousands of the Children Of Chaos continued to throw themselves at the brave defenders holding the line in the name of the realms of Men and of Sigmar. This was a sight he had unfortunately seen far too often throughout the course of his reign. What amazed him now, however, was the sight of those strange metallic beasts, the horseless carriages that sped back and forth along the ground faster than any horse, or the boxy bird-shaped objects that were circling the field, raining bolts of bright light and spitting rockets down upon the fell creatures below them whilst one of them seemed to be emitting ... _music?_ It was a music unlike any he had ever heard before; for starters, most of the lyrics seemed to consist of some word "Thunderstruck"...

The Emperor was no stranger to the idea of scientific innovation, familiar as he was with the Steam Tanks and the Hellblaster volley guns and other wonders of technology that he had seen coming out of the great industrial forges of Nuln, or the even more advanced gyrocopters and steam dreadnought warships of the Dwarves, or the ever diabolical creations of the Skaven. But these devices were another thing entirely. It was apparent that they were metal constructs crafted by the hands of man, and not simply some living beast or, worse, something conjured up by dark magic out of the energies of the Warp. That much was clear. What was not as clear, however, was what exactly were the character of the people who had built these machines and had magically appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

But those questions, he decided, could wait for now. All that mattered was that these strangers were willing, at least for now, to align themselves with the Realms of Man against the foul tide of the Children Of Chaos...

"Orders, Your Majesty?" shouted one of the griffon riders soaring right alongside Deathclaw.

Karl Franz surveyed the battle from his vantage point. The foreigners and their strange machines were killing hundreds and hundreds of the beasts every minute, but there were still more and more emerging from the woods to throw themselves blindly against the ever dwindling lines and reserves of Luthor's forces. At the southern flank, he noticed that a small band of cavalry was making a desperate push into the warherd's own flank, and that something else was rushing at them to respond to their challenge.

At last, he shouted back: "follow me, noble brethren! Let us show those vile creatures of Chaos the wrath of Sigmar! And let us show these strangers who fight on our side just what The Empire is capable of! ONWARDS, FOR SIGMAR!" And Deathclaw gave a shrill hawk-like cry, tucked in his wings, and dove down towards the growing chaotic melee down below...


	12. Battle Brothers III

_**Foreword** : first and foremost, I wish to express my deepest condolences to my French and Lebanese readers out there for recent real-life events in Paris and Beirut._

 _In this chapter, we reach the conclusion of the "Battle Of Crimson EquinoX" story arc, and we will return to Middle Earth soon enough, but I would like to thank my readers for their support, reviews, and enthusiasm._

* * *

 _ **Chapter 12: Battle Brothers Part III**_

 **1km from Landing Zone  
41km SW from Colony designated "Crimson EquinoX"  
Northern Region, Main Continent,  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L0**

Django had never fired a gun before to save his life, had never taken the life of another sapient being. But as he looked around him, at the dozens of dead bodies of those _things_ lying about him, he had come to two disturbing realizations: (1) these creatures were so ugly and evil that he had actually _enjoyed_ killing them, and (2) this would not be the last time he and the others would have to do this during their stay here on this cursed rock of a planet.

 _No, show some spine, man_ , he thought to himself, _people are looking up to you, you know_. He sighed and turned to his co-worker. "You guys okay?" he asked as he turned to face Saito and Alpers, who, like him, were also breathing heavily from the fight, their self-defense pistols still smoking. Saito at least said nothing and nodded, but he could see that she too must have been feeling the same way.

"Director Lombardi; Directress Saito," addressed VICI as he and the young native man named Valten approached, "my scanners indicate that all hostile life forms in the immediate area have been terminated. Your direct route to the designated landing zone is clear of any further obstructions." He then turned and spoke to Valten, in German. The youth nodded. VICI then turned back to Django: "Mister Valten will accompany you and provide any additional security if deemed necessary, though I must also commend the marksmanship shown by the two of you and Inspector Alpers."

"You're leaving us?" asked Saito.

"Affirmative," replied VICI, "I sense that my attributes are currently in most dire need back at the main battlefield." He paused. "That, and there is also one additional matter that must be attended to."

Django knew of what VICI was referring to, and nodded, not wishing to speak of it in front of anyone else. VICI acknowledge his response, and then turned and sprinted off back towards where the battle was unfolding, the smoke and flames visible above the trees behind them...

* * *

 **Brother Indryk (I)  
**  
"BURN the HERETIC!" shouted Brother Indryk Of Boreale as he rode his trusted steed right into the heat of the fray, bringing his hammer down into the nearest Beastman. "SMITE the ABOMINATION!" he continued as he brought his hammer back up, twisted about his waist, and smashed his blunt instrument into the gibbering creature on his other side. "AND suffer NOT the UNCLEAN to live!" he bellowed, concluding his little spiel.

"AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHH!" roared the knights around him as they followed his lead, charging straight into the mass of unholy Children Of Chaos, cutting and slashing and hacking away with their lances and their hammers and swords, whilst their horses trampled over and kicked anything in their way with steel-shod hooves. The Sigmarines were only men – they were neither Dwarves, with their squat but strong frame, nor Elves, with their agility and those thousand-year lifespans they could dedicate towards perfecting the arts of combat – but they were well armored and well trained men. And perhaps more importantly, they had blind faith in their cause, and zeal to keep them surging forward, even when faced by the great menagerie of horrors that lay before them.

"SIGMEHREENS, stay with ME!" commanded Indryk as his frenzied horse continued to gallop forward. Only a couple hundred of the men-at-arms of Father Luthor Huss' retinue had been mounted, but right now, all of them were falling upon the Warherd's flank like a hurricane (and as much as he hated to admit it, perhaps some of their effect now was owed to those Sky-People and how much those possibly heretical contraptions of theirs, like the horseless carriages and rapid-firing guns, had decimated the ungodly hordes. For now, they fought on the side of light and good, but who knows what blasphemous ideas and motivations they may secretly harbor within them? Brother Indryk decided that after this battle, he would keep a very close eye on these possible heathens).

The smaller Ungors, cowardly and wretched creatures as they are, began to panic and flee before the charge of the Sigmarines, but the larger Gors and Minotaurs stood their ground and put up a fight, and before long, many of Indryk's Battle Brothers began to fall one by one. Others fell to the ground as their mounts were killed, or else panicked – the noble horses of the Empire were usually accustomed, both by training and combat experience, to the sight and smell and noise of the Beastmen, but even then, sometimes there were simply far too many of the loathsome creatures in one place. Most of those dismounted to continued to fight on foot, courageous and defiant to the end, but the sheer numbers of the Beastmen were beginning to make itself felt by the rapidly dwindling party of knights.

Just then, there was a bright flash of light from above ... a blinding blue light that crackled like lightning. It struck one of the Battle Brothers, and he cried a most pained and horrified bloodcurdling scream as his body was consumed inside out and his armor slowly melted down by foul Warp energies.

"WE HAVE A SHAMAN!" shouted Indryk, "BRACE THYSELVES, BATTLE BROTHERS, WE MUST EXPUNGE THIS HERESEH FROM OUR PRESENCE AT ONCE!" He quickly muttered a short prayer to Sigmar and prepared himself to face a blasphemous user of the eldritch arts.

Another bolt of dark light struck the ground. This time, Indryk recognized it as a foul Carrion Viletide spell; at once, swarms of crawling, biting, stinging insects began to slither up from the ground around where the spell had struck. Two of the Sigmarines standing right next to it began to kick and smash their hammers at the ground, crushing many insects, but many more began crawling into their armor and biting away. The knights did their damnedest to keep fighting and never betray a sign of weakness, but Indryk could read it from the way they were moving that they were being eaten alive.

And then the caster of these loathsome spells landed on the ground. Indryk blinked in disbelief. Right before them stood ... Malagor himself, the Dark Omen, the Crowfather, the Despoiler Of The Sacred, the Harbinger Of Disaster, the Epitome Of Sin And Blasphemy (and a host of other epitaphs that the Church Of Sigmar had bestowed upon him over the years that Brother Indryk could not quite recall at that moment).

It was oft said that the sight alone of Malagor has caused stout defenders to abandon otherwise impregnable walls and the mightiest of warriors to fall to their knees in abject defeat, such is the sheer terror he could wreak. Perhaps. But Brother Indryk was a fanatic believer in Sigmar through and through, and at that moment, he felt only hatred and seething rage at this unholy abomination. He roared in rage, raised his hammer, and threw himself at the beast.

Indryk and his fellow Sigmarines were quick ... but the fetid bray shaman was quicker yet. Wielding his twisted Crowfather's Staff as expertly and viciously as only one so corrupted in the Ruinous Powers could, he blocked each attack, and struck back, stabbing one of the Sigmarines right through the chest, the staff's eldritch powers ignoring the steel plate like it were naught but butter. Two more Sigmarines joined in the melee, the ones Indryk recognized as the ones who had run afoul of the Viletide, but they fought on, defiant to the end. On and on the duel raged, but the Dark Omen overpowered all of the dozen or so brave men who charged him.

Even Indryk himself fell, wounded by a deep gash along his lower abdomen. He looked about him. Where once there were two hundred brave knights, now there were only a few dozen or so left standing, fighting desperately as the Beastmen rallied around their leader, their efforts renewed. His soul raged and burned with pain, and hatred for the innumerable heresies that darted and danced around him. "DO IT AND BE OVER, ABOMINATION!" spat Indryk, defiantly, "SEND MY SOUL TO SIGMAR!" But the Dark Omen, its horrid eyes aglow, only looked down at him, doing nothing, almost as if mocking him.

 ** _KREE-EEEEEEEEEE-AAAAARRRRHH!  
_**  
The shrill, hawk-like scream was nearly deafening, and Brother Indryk could have sworn for a second that he was going to go deaf. And the sky above them grew dark, and he realized it wasn't the Bray Shaman who had uttered the sound.

Something huge landed right atop the Shaman, eight razor-sharp talons slashing into his backside, tearing at his wings. Malagor released his grip, and Indryk fell backwards onto the ground. His mind was swimming from the pain and shock, but he looked up in time to see ... the largest griffon he had ever seen, a great beast of burden easily three times the height of any horse. It was clawing away savagely whilst the Bray Shaman desperately fought back with his staff, one of his wings torn slightly and barely still hanging onto his back, putrid black blood gushing from his wounds.

There was a man riding atop this creature's back ... no, not just any man, but _the_ Emperor _Of_ Man himself – who else could it have been? Indryk, even in his dazed and delirious state, could recognize him anywhere. Clad in heavy plate armor as he was, the Emperor was still quick on his toes as he pushed himself off of Deathclaw's back and landed on the ground on both feet.

The Bray Shaman unleashed a bolt of pure hatred and Chaos energy directed right at the man. But the dark light seemed to deflect around his body entirely, and the Emperor simply strode forward unflinchingly, as if nothing were amiss. For you see, around his neck, Karl Franz wore the Silver Seal, forged in the reign of Emperor Magnus The Pious, an enchanted amulet of great protective power. Against the higher orders of magic wielders like Malagor, it would not hold indefinitely, but the Emperor did not need very long for what he was about to do next. Ghal Maraz seemed to glow with golden light as he lifted it high above his head ... and then brought the great Hammer down, ending the life of the Dark Omen there and then.

* * *

 **The Prophet Of Sigmar (IV)**

The masses of filthy unwashed creatures of Chaos continued to throw themselves blindly against the front lines, but the men held on stubbornly. Luthor Huss swung his hammer back and forth, smashing all those who dared get too close to him, all the while murmuring prayers and bestowing blessings and benedictions on all those who fought alongside him. The pikemen and halberdiers held their lines, whilst the flagellants and swordsmen fought savagely in the melee. Luthor noted that even the leader of the Sky-People too joined in the battle, firing his pistol at any creature that got far too close for his comfort.

And there were a lot of them. The wondrous rapid-firing guns and the so-called "Falcon" flying machines of the Sky-People had exacted losses upon them that would have been horrific to any other army. But the forces of Chaos were not just "any other army", as the Sky-People seemed to be learning much to their frustration. Instead of sowing panic amongst the warherd, each creature they killed seemed to only strengthen the resolve and bloodlust of the rest of the herd.

" _Scheiße!_ " swore the Captain as he let loose another shot at a nearby Gor, hitting it square on the forehead, "pardon my French, Herr Huss, but these _Tiermenschen_ seem far more impetuous than I had anticipated. Next time, I'll remember to pack a _Flammenwerfer_ too."

"A _Flammenwerfer?_ " asked Luthor as he drove his hammer into the chest of another oncoming Gor, shattering in its ribs.

"Oh _ja_ , it werfs Flammen," explained Müller, nonchalantly, as he calmly replaced the metal box on his pistol that he called a "magazine". Luthor had to admit that he was genuinely intrigued in the idea of a flame-casting device that ran not on sorcery and that would enable him to purge the unclean from the face of this world much faster...

Before he could say anymore, a series of shrill cries from above were heard, and Luthor looked back to see a flock of griffons descending upon the horde, slashing and mauling away at them with their razor-sharp beaks and huge talons – the riders who mounted them were merely the icing on the cake.

Whatever the case, the sudden appearance of these reinforcements alongside the Sky-People's machines had done much to strengthen the resolve and determination of the fighting men, and at last, it seemed that the tide had turned, and that the bulk of the herd was now in full retreat. They left behind them a field covered in mangled bodies and sickening rotting flesh, and the smell was almost overpowering. But the day had been won, and that was all that mattered. One small but positive step towards the salvation of this world, so Luthor hoped.

Just in front of him landed the largest griffon Luthor had even seen, and he knew at once whom it was the man riding it. Even the Sky-Captain seemed momentarily taken aback and amazed at the size and splendor of the creature standing before them.

"Luthor Huss," the Emperor called out from atop his great mount, "we meet again." He turned to face the Sky-People leader, first taking a moment to look him up and down, as if sizing up a potential opponent. "You bear no sigil nor colors of any noble house nor realm of Men I have ever seen before. I presume you are the leader of these foreigners?" he asked as he indicated the Falcon-ships scouring the fields.

" _Jawohl, eure Majestät_ ," he replied loudly and clearly, nodding respectfully, " _Kapitän_ Hans Ulrich Müller, United Nations Star Fleet. We come in peace..." he cast a glance at the masses of dead bodies and Beastmen carcasses that now covered the field, "...well, for the most part anyway."

The Emperor agreed. "Yes, your ... _'Star Fleet'_ has dealt quite the blow upon the Warherd."

"Indeed," agreed the Captain, holding up the device he wore on his wrist and summoning one of those not-magic images he called "holograms" upon it. "Our latest satellite observations estimate that we have ... _oh_ ... my apologies, but it appears that we have a small problem here. These forces that we have dispatched represent only the first _half_ of the total _Tiermenschen_ army. The other half is still in the woods, and they are still marching forwards as we speak."

* * *

 **Landing Zone,  
40km SW of Crimson EquinoX  
Northern Region, Main Continent,  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L0**

At last, the rabble of frightened civilians had arrived at the designated landing zone. Sure enough, Django could see the outline of the Valkyrie shuttle up ahead, far in the distance but flying towards them. His comlink came alive with the voice of Lt. Holmen: "this is Valk 03, inbound to your position!"

"Good. Stay focused," replied the voice of Captain Müller, also over the comlink.

Django glanced around him. Some of the native women and children were visibly frightened by the sight of the approaching Valk, others seemed to be on their knees in prayer, as if the sight of the starship were some divine intervention in their eyes, though who could honestly blame them for thinking so? The great bulk of the Valkyrie came roaring up to them ... and then passed right overhead, ignoring them completely, sailing on forwards, towards the battlefield a couple klicks back behind them.

Django was confused. "Uh, what's going on?" he asked urgently into his comlink, "I thought we were due for a pickup!"

"Negative, sir; new orders from the Captain," answered Lt. Holmen, "your own fellow, the chemist, he suggested it."

"Change of plans, Herr Django," chimed in Captain Hans, "we land, it'll take at least ten minutes to load up the Valk up to capacity. You ever try cramming a thousand screaming refugees into a tight, enclosed space? No, your colleague Herr Doktor Barath had an alternative solution."

Django cast a sideways glance at Ms. Saito. "Oh dear," she commented, "now this will be good." He nodded in agreement.

* * *

 **300m above ground level  
Same location  
**  
The flight route ahead was clearly highlighted in her holographic HUD. Lieutenant Torrin "Tori" Holmen of the UNSF had never done this before, but as far as the Captain had instructed her, she was to consider this just another routine mid-flight cargo drop-off. She sighed and held her breath. Now was the moment of truth.

Hundreds of feet behind her, at the far end of the Valkyrie's immense cargo hold, Dr. András Barath was overseeing the final preparations as the personnel around him, UN and Company™ both, were hurrying about the first large object in front of him: a cargo pallet loaded up with 3,000 kg of TRZX-800 heavy duty mining explosives, rigged to a detonator.

For safety purposes, TRZ was transported aboard starships in a harmless and inert state; it took the careful addition of several other chemical components that were manufactured locally by The Company™'s mobile chemical plant to transform it into the truly notorious substance used in so many controlled demolitions and terrorist bombings back on Earth...

"Coming up on the red zone, get ready," boomed the voice of Lt. Holmen over the intercom speakers up and down the Valk's cavernous cargo hold. Sure enough, red warning lights began flashing, and there was a rush of air and noise as the massive cargo bay doors at the rear of the cabin slowly began to open.

"Alright, this is it!" shouted Dr. Barath, struggling to be heard over the din. Then the red lights began to flash green, and that was the signal they were waiting for. "GO! GO! GO!" he shouted.

A single HULK cargo-lifter unit stationed inside the Valk's cargo hold strode up to the overladen cargo pallet, and began pushing it, effortlessly. The enormous improvised bomb began to ponderously roll down down the steel rollers built into the floor and rear ramp of the shuttle. Then, as gravity and momentum began to take effect, the big package began to roll faster and faster until it hit the end of the ramp, and went tumbling down, right off the edge of the ramp, and down towards the ground below.

"It's away!" shouted Dr. Barath, "okay, get the NEXT pallet ready to go!"

* * *

The word coming from those returning from the front, those foolish cowards who had betrayed the herd and fled the battle, was that Malagor himself had fallen. But Gronk Ratbiter refused to believe it. Oh well, it at least meant that now the honor of winning this fight against the puny manlings was to fall to him and the others around him. He raised his whip high and cracked it against the back of a nearby Ungor who was moving forward far too slowly for his liking, and bellowed a cry of defiance and bloodlust, driving his fellow Bestigors forward.

There was a great roar like thunder from overhead, and the sky darkened for a second as a huge shadow swooped low over the forest. For a split second, Gronk thought perhaps it was a dragon, for as far as he knew in his limited world view, only dragons among other flying creatures grew to those sizes. But he was infuriated a moment later when he realized that it was one of those built things, made by the hands of the weakling men. It was _built_ , and that was what infuriated Gronk and all those others around him who felt nothing but a burning hatred, a desire to kill and destroy, towards all the creations of those who ever defied the will of the true gods. He thrust his club up in the air and brayed a call of challenge to this monster of metal.

And then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. Gronk was confused. Why was this enormous creature fleeing from them? And what was that object he could see that was now slowly plummeting down right towards him? Whatever it was, he... **_BBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM_**.

* * *

 **The Emperor (IV)  
**  
Even from this distance, from the ground, he could feel the shockwave and the very ground he stood upon shaking from the enormous explosion that rocked the forest some ways away from them. He could begin to understand why the Sky-People leader had requested that he and the other Griffon riders remain on the ground for their own safety.

A couple seconds later, the second explosion erupted out from the trees, just a little ways further away from the first one; it too was a massive fireball that consumed all in its path, entire trees uprooted and sent hurtling and smoking into the air by the sheer power of the blast. There were another three more explosions after that, each progressively further and further away, but each still an impressive sight to behold.

And with that, within a few seconds, as he would later find out, the vast majority of whatever remained of the Great Warherd of Malagor The Dark Omen was wiped out. Only a few stragglers who had been traveling at the outer fringes of the herd survived, and these isolated individuals would later be swept up by the combined forces of his own griffon riders, Luthor's surviving men-at-arms, and by the so-called "Falcon-ships" of the Sky-People.

Emperor Karl Franz, Protector Of The Empire and Defier Of The Dark, was perhaps one of the most accomplished generals and statesmen alive today among the realms of Men. But in all of his years, he had never seen anything like the spectacle he now beheld with his own yes. Though years of rule had taught him to always present a straight and stoic face on the outside, inside he felt that something fundamental about this world had changed. Nothing would ever be the same again.

"Your Majesty," spoke the leader of the Sky-People, politely, "I believe we have much to discuss."

"Yes, Herr Kapitän Müller," replied the Emperor, his eyes still transfixed on the growing pillars of flame and smoke and absolute destruction on the horizon, "that we most certainly do."

* * *

 _ **Footnotes:** first of all, credit goes out to **Trevayne** for the idea of using a bombing run similar to Vietnam War-era "daisycutters", so thank you there. Secondly, "Tiermenschen" is the word that the German translation of Warhammer uses for "Beastmen", so that's the word our good Captain Hans uses to refer to them. _


	13. Battle Report 1

**_Somewhere else entirely..._  
**  
The battle was over, and the newcomers had emerged triumphant. But the entity was not bothered in the slightest. He had seen for himself what these strangers were capable of, and more importantly, regardless of who had prevailed that day, the course of the fate of this world and the others beyond it had been inexorably changed, and how exactly, no-one, not even the entity, knew for certain. But was that not the joy and wonder of it? As long as glorious and wondrous and irreversible CHANGE had been wrought upon this world, the entity was satisfied, and eagerly awaited the next opportunity it would have to rear its head into the affairs of these puny and unsuspecting mortals...

* * *

 **Brother Indryk (II)  
**  
Breathing heavily, Brother Indryk lay sprawled across the mud and blood of the battlefield, struggling to pull himself forward with his hands. He was unable to climb back to his feet, such was the deep wound that the damned Unholy Abomination had inflicted upon him. The wounds had already began to fester with a most foul and gangrenous color and smell arising from it; he suspected that not even a Sister Of The Order Of Shallya could save him now. He closed his eyes and concentrated all of his thoughts now on his prayers to Sigmar, praying for salvation, either of his worldly body, or, if not, for his soul.

A foot struck the ground right in front of him. He immediately looked up to see to whom it belonged to. It was one of the Sky-People, the tall one.

"Speak, heathen!" croaked Indryk, coughing up bile and blood now, unable to shout as he usually did. "Have you... come to put... an end... to my crusade?"

"Affirmative, Commander Boreale," replied the Sky-man, calmly, "I must say that you are surprisingly insightful for an otherwise primitive organic with a, at-best, medieval-level world view."

"Well... hurry up then!" spat Indryk, "my soul is... PREPARED!"

"As you wish."

 _Snap.  
_

* * *

"So... objectives complete?"

"Affirmative. I have ensured that primary _and secondary_ targets have been disposed of, and am _en route_ to your location as we speak."

"Good. We're with the Emperor and Luthor right now; the Captain's talking to them, and we're gonna take them back to the colony and show 'em around and stuff. I ... uh..."

"I detect based on the tone of your voice that you are harboring second thoughts over the morality of your commands. Perhaps if I may offer some counsel: I believe that your decision was ultimately the correct one, as we have now ensured that one potential indigenous obstacle to our agenda on this world has been removed. We _*are*_ The Company™, and the ends _*do*_ justify the means. And I speculate with near 100% certainty that this decision will not be the last difficult one you will be forced to make over these next few months. Perhaps it will help you to know that the secondary target in question was already critically wounded during the battle; I merely ensured and expedited the process of his expiry."

"Uh ... okay, if you say so... look, let's just not talk about it anymore. So ... right, tell me, any chance we can collect a few decent samples for the bio labs to dissect?"

"Affirmative, though that would not be recommended, as we can not as yet determine the possible contagion and communicability of the thaumaturgical mutagens found within these samples. Rather, I recommend that any detailed studies of these anomalous biological specimens be conducted via remote-control probe units, and dispose of the rest in an expedient manner, preferably through incineration."

"Got it. Right. I think after today's excitement, we shouldn't be taking anymore chances."

* * *

 **From: [REDACTED]  
To: [REDACTED]  
Re: Armed Engagement with Hostile Natives on Planets EE-L5 and EE-L0  
Date: 09 Nov, 2154**

Dear [REDACTED]

As promised, here are the memos I've prepared on our two most recent armed encounters with hostile natives, including today's battle against those savages on L0. Apologies if the report on L5 took a little longer than we expected to complete, but I've now attached both of them to this message. Everything important is contained within, but message me if you have any questions.

Best regards,

[REDACTED]

* * *

 **FOR YOUR EYES ONLY  
Status: CLASSIFIED, Level-5  
By: REDACTED  
Filed on: REDACTED**

 **AFTER-ACTION REPORT:  
Diplomatic Incident At Morannon  
A.K.A. ****"Operation Black Gate"**

 **§1 Basic Information:**

 **Date** : Day 34 After Arrival (Nov 04, 2154 C.E. / Sept 10, 3018 T.A. in local calendar)  
 **Location** : site designated "Morannon", at the confluence of the Ephel Dúath and Ered Lithui Mountain Ranges; Continent of Endor aka "Middle Earth", Planet EE-L5  
 **Participants** :  
+The Company™  
+Mordor  
 **Outcome** : Company™ victory; unprovoked attack on our emissaries repulsed; UN approves assistance and aid to the Kingdom Of Gondor.

 **§2. Order Of Battle:**

 **2.1.: Company™ forces: 3 total**  
+1 Nexus-8 Synthetic ("VIDI")  
+2 Arcturus Legion mercenaries  
 **2.2.: Mordor forces: approx. 200+  
** +200 Orcs  
+1 Troll  
+1 Human

 **§3. Prelude:**

Our mission to Planet EE-L5 landed on Day 02 on the western coast of the Main Continent (in the area now designated "Enedwaith", of the larger continent "Endor" or "Middle Earth", as our resident anthropologist Dr. S. Duff has recommended that we follow the native naming customs rather than giving our own names for local landmarks and geographical features), where they then established the colony of "Beautiful Horizon" (named after the ship _UNSV Belo Horizonte_ , and also after the local sunsets over the ocean that could be viewed from our new colony).

On Day 11, we established First Contact with the natives, namely, an individual named "Boromir, Son Of Denethor", who is, coincidentally, a high-ranking political and military leader of one of the indigenous sovereign states of this planet, the "Kingdom Of Gondor", and, also coincidentally, seems to bear a superficial physical resemblance to one of the native political leaders of Planet EE-L4, the one named "Lord Eddard Stark". Through Mr. Boromir, we learnt much about the current social and political state of the nations of EE-L5. Primarily, the Kingdom Of Gondor, a Human nation, is currently at war with a non-Human native faction called "Mordor". We hosted Mr. Boromir at our colony for several more days afterwards, taking advantage of the opportunity to both gather information from this individual, as well as to acquaint him with many of the opportunities and mutual benefits that a friendship between The Company™ and the Kingdom Of Gondor could yield.

On Day 21, a diplomatic delegation composed of Dir. Jonathan Teller, Asst.-Dir. Angela Cheong, UN Inspector Stephen Lynn, Ms. Sarah Carson, Dr. S. Duff, and several other individuals (UN and Company™ both) traveled with Mr. Boromir back to his home city of Minas Tirith, capital of Gondor, where they met with and instigated formal diplomatic relations with Mr. "Denethor, Son Of Ecthelion", Boromir's father and current reigning head-of-state of Gondor. Our delegation also used this diplomatic mission as an opportunity to gather further intelligence, namely, by accessing the rather prodigious collection of archives at Minas Tirith, a significant (though not exhaustive) portion of which has since been scanned and uploaded to our database (please consult the separate report prepared by Dr. S. Duff and Dr. S. White on what information we have attained on the history, culture, language, and politics of the indigenous nations and races of Planet EE-L5).

Using information gleaned from our operatives as to the state of local affairs on EE-L5, the board drew the following conclusions: (1) that the State Of Mordor and its vassal states are an inherently hostile and imperialistic polity (2) that routinely practice acts that could legally be considered "genocide", "torture", and other violations of Human Rights by the UN, (3) that said bellicosity on Mordor's part may pose a long-term threat to human civilization on the planet in general, and to The Company™'s colonial interests in particular; (4) that in addition to aforementioned bellicosity, the inhabitants of Mordor are a species called "Orc" who are also physically repulsive and thus less likely to garner any sympathy in the news media ( _see footnote[1]_ ); and (5) that a legal war against Mordor and assistance to more "sympathetic" native factions such as Gondor may gain both (a) popular support back on Earth for The Company™, as well as (b) greater discretion for and lenience from UN regulations for The Company™ in its dealings with the indigenous peoples of Planet EE-L5.

Based on these findings, the board authorized Dir. Teller with instigating open hostilities with Mordor under the guise of sending a diplomatic mission to resolve the current conflict between Mordor and Gondor. On Day 31, our team at Beautiful Horizon was joined by a Nexus-8 unit housing the Victory-class A.I. designated "VIDI" for these purposes. The two other operatives chosen to represent us were Ms. Raskalnikova and Valiuté, a pair of Arcturus Legion mercenaries posing as two employees in our Survey Dept. who " _just so happen to be proficient in self-defense firearms use thanks to the training of our colony personnel in self-defense by Sgt. E. Rico and F. Harris of the UN Colonial Marine Corps_ " [sic].

 **§4. Course Of Battle:**

For the purposes of this mission, we decided that our emissaries would disguise themselves as members of the indigenous humanoid species known locally as "Elves" ( _see footnote[2]_ ) so that, officially, they would appear more approachable to the indigenes. Unofficially, we wanted our emissaries to provoke the wrath of Mordor by posing as members of a race that Mordor already has sour relations with. As an added benefit, on the chance that our actions did provoke Mordor into a war against the Elves, not only would we be relieving some of the pressure on Gondor, but we would also gain additional demand for military assistance from the Elves, as well as further legal justification for our involvement in the war effort against Mordor.

It was determined that the site of the alleged diplomatic negotiations would be the location designated "Morannon" by the natives (or "Black Gate" in the local language), as this fortification represents a historically significant landmark of the long bitter relations between the warring states of Gondor and Mordor.

On the morning of Day 34, our diplomatic party landed several miles from the site of Morannon on Falcon01, and then proceeded the rest of the way on foot. Meanwhile, one of our staff, as per Ms. Valiuté's request, took an alternative route and concealed a cache of several firearms and extra ammunition in the hills immediately west of the Gate. Our operatives arrived at Morannon, where they were duly greeted by an emissary of Mordor whom our native allies have confirmed is an individual known as "The Mouth Of Sauron" ( _see footnote[3]_ ). Mr. Mouth was accompanied by approx. 100 Orcs, clad in what appears to be the standard military "uniform" of Mordor's armed forces, namely, armor, shields, and an assortment of swords, maces, and spears not too different from those widely used in our own Medieval ages.

VIDI proceeded to list out the faux terms of our peace, which were pretty reasonable (by Earth standards at least), including the cessation of all hostilities against Gondor, the restoration of all pre-War borders between the two states, as well as a payment of reparations and issuance of a formal apology to the Gondorian government. As expected, the Mordorians were insulted by our demands, and attacked our operatives, thus giving us the legal _casus belli_ to declare war as retaliation for this act. VIDI retaliated quickly and efficiently, killing the Mouth Of Sauron, and dispatching most of his attendant guards.

Meanwhile, whilst VIDI performed the bulk of the combat, our representatives Ms. Raskalnikova and Valiuté retreated and took up positions in the hills west of the gate, where they established a defensive position with the aid of the secret cache of "self-defense" firearms and ammunition earlier concealed at the site. This had proved to be a fortunate precaution in hindsight, as a second group of Mordorian forces sallied forth from a position south of the gate, hoping to overwhelm our two emissaries. This second group was roughly the same size as the first one, but included amongst them one of the larger indigenous species known as a "troll" ( _see footnote[4]_ ).

Nevertheless, Raskalnikova and Valiuté were able to hold their position until they were later joined by VIDI, and the three of them were picked up by Falcon01 before Mordor could marshal any further reinforcements.

 **§5. Casualties:  
**  
We report no significant casualties on our side, although Pvt. Valiuté did break a nail. The Mordorians, on the other hand, suffered almost total casualties, including the demise of their emissary, Mr. Mouth Of Sauron. We hope that this will be a trend that will continue in future engagements, as our current estimates place the population of Mordor at approx. five million humanoid lifeforms, and our own manpower reserves on the planet are limited for the time being to 18 UN Colonial Marines, 20 other UN personnel, and about 120 Company™ personnel (although we have plans to recruit and train a militia of at least 50 natives over the next month, as well as helping train and equip our allies, the Kingdom Of Gondor).

 **§6. Aftermath:  
**  
On one hand, we are pleased to report that UN Inspector Stephen Lynn has approved the institution of a formal state of war between us and the State Of Mordor. However, on the other hand, this state of war is as yet limited, and not as far-reaching as we had hoped, and we are still precluded from launching any further offensive operations against Mordor or affiliate allied states unless under specific circumstances, such as a response to a specific act of human rights violation.

At the very least, for now, we have been approved to provide the Kingdom Of Gondor with military assistance, provided that these hand-outs are within the prescribed UN limitations (for example, no "automatic weapons", "modern weapons", and "nuclear, chemical, or biological" weapons are to be provided. We are fairly confident though that a decent Victorian Era / Pre-World War One-level military can be trained and equipped once our munitions factories are in full operation, and would still prove vastly superior to most current native standing armies of EE-L5, which are still hovering at technologically Medieval-levels at best, use of battlefield thaumaturgy aside).

We will be sure to keep a close eye on continuing developments in Mordor. If, as a result of our actions, Mordor were to instigate hostilities against the Elven races of Planet EE-L5, then we may be in a position to request further authorization from the UN to provide emergency relief and assistance to the Elves. This may also have the side-effect of relieving some (though not all) of the military pressure that our Gondor is currently experiencing (and thus granting us additional time to help train a proper Gondorian military, as well as construct adequate infrastructure to facilitate commerce between our colony and Gondor).

I would like to formally recommend our employees Ms. Raskalnikova and Valiuté for commendations for volunteering for this most dangerous assignment, and having demonstrated exceptionally steadfast courage and resilience despite being just humble surveyors with only limited firearms training.

* * *

 ***Footnote[1]:** " **Orc** " or _Orcus servilis_ (Latin: "servile underworld dweller") are a bipedal humanoid species indigenous to the EE System. We have thus identified two "Orcish" species on Planets EE-L0 and L5, _O. viridis_ ("green orc") and _O. servilis_ , respectively.

 ***Footnote[2]:** " **Elf** " or _Homo alfus_ (Latin: "Elf man"), are an indigenous humanoid species that seems to be native to both Planets EE-L0 and EE-L5 (which, until we can more properly ascertain the evolutionary relationship between the two, we have divided into two subspecies). They bear a superficial resemblance to _Homo sapiens_ ; however, we are informed that there are a number of important biological differences between _H. sapiens_ and _H. alfus_ , primarily, their greater longevity, more acute sensory systems, and significantly higher "thaumaturgical potential". No further information available on their biology at this time until we can finally procure one specimen for our biology unit to analyze. However, the available archival information suggests that _H. alfus_ and _H. sapiens_ are reproductively compatible. Thus, we have classified the Elves under the genus _Homo_ , along with other hominids, for the time being.

 ***Footnote[3]:** according to our local sources, the individual known as " **The Mouth Of Sauron** " is a Human being, although analysis of the video footage taken by VIDI suggests that he is/was a significantly altered and thaumically mutated one. The State Of Mordor, and the individual known as "Sauron" in particular, seem capable of high-level feats of thaumaturgy, and we recommend extreme caution in any further dealings with these entities.

 ***Footnote[4]:** " **Troll** " or _Troll endoriensis_ (from the Norwegian/Swedish "troll" and Latin "of Endor"). This particular specimen seems to be a member of the "Mountain Troll" subspecies ( _T. endoriensis montium_ ; Latin: "of the mountain").

 _ **This report was prepared by [NAMES REDACTED] on [DATE REDACTED]. The information and opinions expressed within are accurate to the fullest extent of these individuals' knowledge. All information contained within this report is to be considered CLASSIFIED; under no circumstances are any of the information above to be made public unless first reviewed by our Censorship Board.**_

 _Please turn to the next page for the second report attached to this email..._


	14. Battle Report 2

**FOR YOUR EYES ONLY  
Status: CLASSIFIED, Level-5  
By: REDACTED  
Filed on: REDACTED**

 **AFTER-ACTION REPORT:  
The Battle Of Crimson EquinoX***

 _*Technically, the actual combat took place some distance away from the colony itself. However, we felt that this name sounded much better than "The Battle Of Random Unnamed Geographical Feature Near To Crimson EquinoX".  
_  
 **§1 BASIC OUTLINE  
**  
+ **Date** : Day 39 After Arrival (Nov 09, 2154 C.E.)  
+ **Location** : 42km SW of Crimson EquinoX, Main Continent, Planet EE-L0  
+ **Participants** :

1\. The Company™ and UNCDF  
2\. Indigenous Human faction known as "The Empire Of Man" (see footnote[1]) and the "Cult Of Sigmar" (footnote[2]).  
3\. Hostile indigenous life-forms known as "Beastmen" (footnote[3]), aligned with a faction called "Chaos" (footnote[4]).

+ **Commanders** :

1\. The Company™: Directors James "Django" Lombardi and Akane Saito  
2\. UNCDF: Captain Hans Ulrich Müller  
3\. Luthor's Crusade: Father Luthor Huss  
4\. Imperial Reinforcements: Emperor Karl Franz (footnote[5])  
5\. Beastmen: Malagor "The Dark Omen"

+ **Outcome** : decisive Human victory; immediate threat to colony neutralized; intelligence gathered on indigenous factions and capabilities; diplomatic relations fostered with native Humans.

 **§2 ORDER OF BATTLE  
**  
 **2.1.** ** _The Company™ and UNCDF_** : 52 total

+27 Colonial Marines (3 squads): Fireteam Epsilon (Lt. Archer), Fireteam Zeta (Sgt. Murphy), and Fireteam Delta (Sgt. Rashid)  
+12 UNSF personnel (shuttle pilots and crews)  
+2 other UNASEC personnel  
+10 Company™ personnel  
+1 Nexus-8 Synthetic

 _ **Vehicles:**_

+4 "Wild Cat" Light Utility Vehicles  
+2 "Lynx" Motorcycles  
+2 "Falcon" Shuttles  
+1 "Valkyrie" Shuttle

 **2.2.** ** _Imperial Forces:_** 2,521

+2,200 infantry  
+300 cavalry  
+ _Reinforceements_ : 21 griffon riders

 **2.3.** ** _Beastmen Warherd:_** approx. 10,015

+10,000 regular "Beastmen" forms (various types)  
+12 larger "giant" and/or "Ghorgon" forms (footnote[6])  
+3 "Jabberslythe" forms (footnote[7])

 **§3 PRELUDE  
**  
In contrast to our expeditions to Planet EE-L4 (initiated on Day 01 by Kovacs and Zimmerman) and EE-L5 (Day 02, by Teller and Cheong), Dir. Lombardi and Saito decided to wait for at least one month before initiating their landings on EE-L0, in order to leave more time to study the planet and its indigenous life-forms from orbit. EE-L0 is the largest, most populated, and most "thaumically active" inhabitable world in the system, and so it was natural to assume that it would also be the most dangerous. Indeed, observations made over the last month seem to support this assumption, and prompted Dir. Lombardi and Saito to consolidate what had previously been planned to be two separate colonies on this world into a single colony, for better protection.

On Day 32, Valkyries02 and 03 landed upon the planet and proceeded to establish the Colony of Crimson EquinoX. Although the colony was strategically located in an area of incredible mineral wealth, Dir. Lombardi and Saito determined that all resources would be prioritized towards (1) security, and (2) study and analysis of the phenomenon of "magic" or "thaumic energy", which Planet EE-L0 is rich in, and which could provide numerous opportunities to The Company™, but also numerous dangers as well.

In particular, one local phenomenon that has puzzled our scientists is the existence of two anomalies located at the north and south poles of the planet, which radiate EM and other radiation as well, including what is now believed to be "thaumic radiation". These emissions have been known since at least the 2120's, and were the reason that a mission to the Epsilon Eridani system could not be sent due to navigation difficulties caused by the EM flux across the entire star system until an adequate countermeasure could be devised by one of our Applied Sciences Division task forces under the leadership of Dr. Richard Garrett.

However, the EM flux originating from the planet's poles are still disruptive enough to our navigational aids that both of our Valkyries were recommended to take a lower-angled approach vector to their eventual landing sites, which took them over much of Planet EE-L0's main continent. Evidently, this had the side-effect of causing the plasma exhaust from our shuttles to be visible over much of the continent, drawing the attention of many of the natives, mostly those within the territory of the sovereign state known as "The Empire Of Man" (footnote[1]).

One of these native factions in particular was a local religious sect (incl. men, women, and children too) who follow the charismatic preacher Luthor Huss, who, while a citizen of The Empire and an adherent to its main religion, the Cult Of Sigmar (footnote[2]), also appears to be a bit of a fanatic who has broken from the Imperial clerical establishment in recent years to lead his own personal crusade against "Chaos" (footnote[4]).

At least two other natives also noticed our arrival and were drawn to our colony. One of these is the current reigning sovereign of The Empire himself, Emperor Karl Franz I (footnote[5]). The other was a herd of hostile indigenous life-forms known locally as "Beastmen" (footnote[3]) who also seem to be aligned with the aforementioned "Chaos". We are informed that the leader of this so-called "Warherd" was a particularly dangerous and thaumically potent individual known as "Malagor The Dark Omen".

On Day 39, our satellites spotted Luthor's followers while still some distance away from our colony, searching for what they believed to be a certain "Twin-Tailed Comet" featured in their religion. Our operatives decided to initiate First Contact with the natives at a site located some 40km SW of our colony, as a precaution. Director Lombardi, Directress Saito, VICI, Captain Müller, Ambassador Alpers, and several other UN and Company™ personnel first contacted a native named "Brother Ulryk Of The Drakwald", who appears to be a high-ranking leader in Luthor's Crusade (and also coincidentally bears a striking physical resemblance to the native leaders on Planets EE-L4 and L5 designated "Eddard Stark" and "Boromir" respectively).

First Contact went about as well as one could have hoped, given the circumstances: the natives, predictably, reacted with surprise and shock upon seeing our technology for the first time. One of them in particular, another of Luthor's lieutenants named "Brother Indryk Of Boreale", seemed a rather difficult individual, as he was quick to view our technology as works of witchcraft and therefore "heresy" in his limited world view. Fortunately, Luthor Huss, while himself a fanatic, seemed calm and reasonable enough to keep his troublesome underling in check for now. Nonetheless, VICI analyzed Indryk's behavior and concluded that it would probably be in our interests to quietly eliminate this individual, or else he would eventually cause some unpleasantries in our dealings with his fellow natives down the line.

Just then, our satellites detected another group of incoming natives, this one being the aforementioned "Beastmen". We determined that they could be dangerous, and relayed this information to Luthor Huss, who confirmed that "Beastmen" are indeed a hostile and aggressive life-form, and that 10,000 of them pose a major threat to him and his followers and to our colony as well. Thus, Capt. Müller decided that the UN and Company™ would help protect Luthor's followers (including over a thousand women and children) for humanitarian reasons.

As our forces prepared to defend themselves, VICI informed Dir. Lombardi and Saito of his analysis that this upcoming battle would provide both a good opportunity to win the favor of Luthor Huss, and also to secretly eliminate the more fanatic and dangerous elements of his retinue, such as Brother Indryk. Dir. Lombardi agreed with this analysis and authorized the termination of Indryk, but only once the civilians had been safely evacuated.

 **§4 COURSE OF BATTLE**

 **§4.1. Deployment:**

Luthor Huss' forces adopted a standard battle line formation, taking position along the eastern edge of a large clearing, facing west. Huss' infantry was composed primarily of pikemen, swordsmen, and halberdiers, along with units of archers, and arquebusiers equipped with simple black powder firearms. Huss' small but determined cavalry forces were concentrated at the southern flank, under the command of Indryk, whereas Captain Müller promised Luthor that his northern flank would be guarded by our ground forces.

As promised, our main offensive force, consisting of 4 "Wild Cat" vehicles and 2 "Lynx" motorcycles, approached the battlefield from the north. Each of the Cats was equipped with the standard infantry-support loadout favored by the UN Colonial Marines, that being a rear turret mounting a GAU-19Z .50-cal MiniGun, along with co-axial M250 7.62mm machine gun and 20mm grenade launcher. The 6 vehicles that participated in this action were:

1\. **Cat05** : commanded by Sgt. Rashid  
2\. **Cat06** : Pvt. White  
3\. **Cat07** : Pvt. Katsaros  
4\. **Cat08** : Pvt. Brovlovsky  
5\. **ScoutBike01** : Sgt. Murphy  
6\. **ScoutBike02** : Pvt. Bingham

 **§4.2. Battle At North and Center:  
**  
As the "Beastmen" force approached, Capt. Müller made a last minute attempt to resolve the situation peacefully by warning the encroaching savages what fate would befall them if they did not turn back. While he was well aware that such a gesture was futile, it is nonetheless required under UN law that use of force only be pursued as a last resort when all other options have been exhausted. As expected, the "Beastmen" ignored the Captain's warnings and plowed on ahead. At this point, the order was given for Wild Cat Force to begin performing rapid hit-and-run strikes against the horde in the hopes that these would deter and demoralize them into breaking off their attack.

Cats05 and 07 drove directly south, performing a drive-by sweep across the entire front. Meanwhile, Cats06 and 08 and the scout units remained at the north end of the field, strafing the northern flanks of the horde. Due to how tightly packed the Beastmen were, four GAU-19Z MiniGuns were able to exact a high toll upon the attackers, mowing down thousands of the creatures (and even felling a few dozen trees in the process). However, it was found that the mounting losses did little to demoralize the attacking forces, and eventually, all four Cats were forced to switch to their smaller and less effective M250 machine guns in order to conserve ammunition.

The herd, seemingly oblivious to their mounting losses, pushed forward, and eventually their first wave charged right into the main line of the Imperial Forces, and a fierce melee broke out. The Beastmen had the advantage of being generally physically larger and stronger than normal humans, as well as their terrifying appearance, sound, and putrid smell, all of which can invoke horror and disgust in normal humans. However, the Imperial soldiers had the advantage of generally being better trained and disciplined, fighting in organized formations, with cover fire provided by archers and ranks of arquebusiers. That, and we believe that a mix of pure religious fanaticism combined with the sight of our own forces killing the attacking hordes by the dozen may have helped keep them motivated.

Our satellites detected several large creatures moving amongst the herd, which were being used by the Beastmen as some form of heavy shock troops/armored vehicle equivalent. At least seven "giants" and five "Ghorgons" were identified and dispatched (though we believe many more may have been in the herd) (footnote[6]). More problematic, however, was a new species encountered during this battle, a large terrestrial megafauna that the natives call a "Jabberslythe" (footnote[7]). At least three such specimens participated in the battle. The first one was killed when Sgt. Rashid detonated a box of grenades in its mouth. The second one was killed by a strafing run performed by Lt. Wright. The third one was killed in the final bombing run performed by Lt. Holmen.

 **§4.3. Air Assault:  
**  
As the Beastmen did not seem to take the hint from our initial ground force, Capt. Müller was then legally able to authorize the deployment the next level of UNCDF military response, that being our air support: Falcons 06 (piloted by Lt. Wright) and 07 (Lt. Kuribayashi). Each Falcon was loaded with a fairly standard explorator variant load-out of: a Markalite-12 Medium Pulse Laser, Hydra cluster missiles, and two door-mounted M2134 MiniGuns (in order to conserve weight, the explorator variant of the LXT30 Falcon does not come equipped with the GAU-17 20mm Rotary Cannon mounted on the standard combat model). As a form of psch-war, Sgt. M. Wright suggested a playlist of his collection of various rock and metal classics from the 1970's, 80's, and 90's.

Once our air support had been committed to the engagement, we were notified by our satellites of several incoming unidentified flying objects, which were revealed, upon closer examination, to be a group of 21 humans riding on Griffons (footnote[8]). Given that these new contacts looked radically different from any of the Beastmen, and that they were approaching from a different direction, we speculated that they were not affiliated with the Beastmen. Luthor Huss confirmed that deployment of Griffon-riders is a practice more characteristic of "The Empire Of Man" than with "Chaos"-affiliated factions, and thus the order was given not to engage these new contacts unless in self-defense.

One of these new contacts was identified riding an exceptionally large specimen of Griffon, that we were informed could only belong to one unique individual: the Emperor himself. This is actually a fortunate coincidence, as our operatives will then be able to conduct diplomacy directly with the most powerful authority figure in The Empire, and after having given him a demonstration of what our technology and resources have to offer to his reign.

 **§4.4. Battle At The South Flank:  
**  
While our forces and those commanded by Huss and Ulryk fought at the North and Center, an almost entirely separate battle was being fought at the southern flank, as Indryk led the cavalry in a heroic but rather harebrained assault on the herd's southern flank. We of course recognized the folly of such a maneuver, but did not inform Commander Indryk as such, as (1) we did not believe he would be so inclined to heed our warnings, and (2) Dir. Lombardi unilaterally decided that Indryk's demise on the battlefield was a desirable outcome.

To the credit of Commander Indryk and his "Sigmarines", the heavy cavalry made great progress in plowing through the disorganized mass of creatures. It was only when they ran up against Malagor himself, who is a powerful thaumaturgist, that they ran into serious trouble. Satellite videos of this battle reveal that this individual is capable of some rather terrifying and impressive feats of thaumaturgy, including but not limited to summoning a swarm of flesh-eating insects. The individual also proved to be a surprisingly agile and deadly melee combatant.

It took the arrival of the Emperor himself to finally end the rampage of Malagor; indeed, analysis of the satellite video shows that Emperor Karl Franz may either be an accomplished thaumaturgist himself, or at least be in possession of powerful thaumaturgical artifacts that shielded him from Malagor's attacks, and enabled him to end the life of the Beastmen leader in one swing of his warhammer (footnote[5]).

Most of the Sigmarines were rather unceremoniously killed during their ill-fated charge. After the battle, our operative VICI found Indryk and eliminated him as per Dir. Lombardi's instructions, although the individual in question was already fatally wounded, and some of his injuries were severely infected from contact with Malagor (thus confirming that some forms of thaumaturgy can be highly toxic, mutagenic, and lethal to humans, and thus must be handled with extreme caution).

 **§4.5. Civilian Evacuation:  
**  
While the battle was raging on, Dir. Lombardi, Saito, and Amb. Alpers took charge of leading the thousand or so women and children among Luthor's followers to a designated evac zone 2km east of the battlefield, planning to airlift these civilians out of the immediate danger zone. Most of the men stayed behind to participate in the battle, although Luthor did send one particular individual, a young man by the name of "Valten" and whom we believe to be his protege of sorts, to help us lead his followers (as Luthor perhaps rightfully suspected that his followers would not be so inclined to follow our operatives otherwise).

During the course of this evacuation, several raiding/scouting parties totaling roughly 80 to 100 Beastmen managed to slip past the main battle line and made a beeline straight for the civilians (probably having identified them as a far easier target than simply attacking the main battle line from behind). These bands of skirmishers were dispatched by the combined efforts of VICI and Valten, although Lombardi, Saito, and Alpers were still forced to employ personal sidearms in self-defense.

Once these marauders were terminated and VICI identified no further immediate threats to the evacuees, Dir. Lombardi authorized VICI to begin carrying out his executive orders to return to the front and assist the forces there whilst also ensuring the demise of Brother Indryk.

 **§4.6. Final Bombing Run:  
**  
Between our forces and Luthor's, we were able to wipe out about 5,000 Beastmen. Any normal army would have broken and fled after having suffered 50% casualties, including their leader. But alas, it appears that the rest of the herd was still located in the forest and yet to engage.

At the suggestion of Dr. Barath, our engineers hastily prepared five improvised bombs, each consisting of a standard cargo pallet loaded with 3,000kg (6,600lb) of TRZ-800 mining explosives. Dr. Barath admits that he was inspired somewhat by the use of "daisycutters" and Operation Arc Light during the First Vietnam War in the 1960's. The primary difference being that while a typical aircraft employed in Arc Light operations, a Boeing B-52D "Stratofortress", would employ 84 500lb (227kg) bombs and 24 750lb (340kg) bombs (for a total payload of 60,000lb or 27,000kg), our own version would employ only five bombs, seeing as our team had only limited time to rig each device and its detonator.

Valkyrie03 made its pass over the main bulk of the remaining Beastmen, and dropped all five pallets in sequence. Together, the five improvised bombs, each with a blast yield of 9 tons of conventional TNT equivalent, succeeded in reducing the vast majority of the remaining attacking forces, as well as much of the surrounding forest, to puree. Any remaining survivors from this attack were isolated and either fled, or were relatively easily hunted down by our Falcon and Cat forces, and also by the Emperor's griffons.

 **§5 CASUALTIES  
**  
 _ **+Company™/UN**_ : no significant casualties to report, although all of our personnel are rather shaken up by this harrowing experience.  
 _ **+Imperial Forces**_ : approx. 500 (250 KIA and 250 WIA); 20%  
 **+ _Beastmen_** : total

 **§6 AFTERMATH**

 **§6.1. Implications For Our Scientific And Exploration Purposes**

Firstly, Dr. Mertesacker and Muysenbergh are preparing a follow-up report on the biology and behavior of the "Beastmen" (footnote[3]). As per the recommendation of VICI, we are preparing to perform dissections on several specimens remotely via remote-controlled drones, as we are as yet uncertain as to what could be the potentially lethal effects of up-close exposure to these contaminated specimens.

Secondly, we have now witnessed just some of the ways that the thaumic phenomenon known as "Chaos" can manifest itself physically, whether in the mutations of these aberrant biological forms, or in the heavy use of thaumic-based attacks by the individual known as Malagor. This is undeniable proof that "Chaos" not only exists, but is a major threat to our interests on Planet EE-L0 and possibly on the other worlds as well if it is active there.

I therefore recommend that we prioritize allocation of resources towards investigating and understanding the nature of this phenomenon, how can we detect occurrences of "Chaos", and how can we work to immunize our personnel from its influences. Seeing as The Empire seems to have years of experience combating "Chaos", consulting with them may be a good place to start.

 **§6.2. Colony Security & Rearmament**

I cannot express enough how urgent a priority security should be taken by our colony in the wake of this incident. While the combined efforts of our personnel from Earth and our new allies was sufficient this time, we are now aware that there exist many other threats of equal or greater magnitude. Therefore, it is imperative that our colony immediately begin taking the following measures:

1\. **Enlistment of some of the natives to form a paramilitary defense force**. Dir. Kovacs and Teller are already in the process of recruiting of "native militias" at their respective colonies. We recommend an initial force of at least 100 militiamen, with provisions for further expansion of this force as our colony grows. We are interested in possibly hiring some of Luthor's followers since they are already here and we did just save their lives, though there may also be a bit of a culture shock and religion barrier to put it mildly.  
2\. **Forging defensive pacts with local allies** ; see 6.3 below.  
3\. **Construction of additional fortifications around our colony**. At present, our facilities are guarded by a standard Level-1 motion sensor and autoturret grid, though we are in the process of constructing a 4m high perimeter fence enclosing the entire compound. In the wake of this incident, we are requesting fast-tracking for the approval of the proposed "Lombardi-Saito Wall" series of fortifications, detailed in a separate report.  
4\. **Industrial capacity of our fabricators be prioritized towards arms production**. This incident alone has consumed a sizable portion of our total ammunition reserves, and we would rather not risk any further engagements until we can bring daily production to at least 4,000 rounds. In addition to replenishing our stockpiles consumed by this battle, we will need additional munitions for training our native militia, as well as possible trade with local allies.  
5\. **Stockpiling of incendiaries, particularly napalm**. Our native sources confirm that the vast majority of known species react adversely to fire, and that it also helps counter the thaumic regenerative abilities of some organisms.  
6\. **Stockpiling of explosive, fragmentation, and other area-effect munitions** ; we are informed that the more numerous hostile native species, such as the Beastmen, the local strain of Orc, and a race of ratlike hominids known as "Skaven", are known to cluster in large, tightly packed hordes.  
7\. **Stockpiling of chemical weapons**. While outlawed under current UN Treaties, we feel that perhaps to keep a secret cache of nerve gas on standby for emergency situations is warranted.  
8\. **Research into counter-measures for thaumic energy-based attacks and defenses**. Now that we are aware that thaumic energy can be used both in an offensive manner and for shielding or concealing targets, it is imperative that we begin devising methods of detecting and destroying thaumically-potent opponents.

 **§6.3. Diplomacy  
**  
We speculate that this incident may have actually have opened up several opportunities for diplomatic inroads here on EE-L0. Now, of course, the native species known as "Beastmen" are proven to be extremely hostile and perhaps more worthy of being shot on sight than pursuing any further relations with. But on the other hand, the native human faction known as "The Empire Of Man" may prove far more amenable to our agenda.

The Empire is one of the most prominent nations on Planet EE-L0. As it turns out, our colony is located within their territory, though not too far from their border with another human nation, the Kingdom Of Kislev. Both The Empire and Kislev are nominally allies against the greater threat of Beastmen and other indigenous factions that follow "Chaos". We are certain that our little show of force today against the Forces Of Chaos, and done in the name of preserving the lives of Imperial citizens no less, will not be lost on The Empire as a gesture of friendship and the benefits that would arise out of an alliance (and also as a warning of what happens to those who stand in our way).

As fate would have it, the Emperor himself is present at our colony. We will of course make sure that he and his retinue are comfortably hosted and given the tour of our facilities that we hope will impress him enough into accepting a formal pact with our representatives. We are encouraged by our initial analysis that Karl Franz is actually quite an intelligent and capable leader, and will no doubt recognize the benefits of such a deal. He is certainly far less fanatic than most of the zealots serving in Luthor's Crusade.

The Empire has much to offer us in terms of land, labor, and most importantly, their knowledge and expertise in thaumaturgy, and whatever intelligence they can offer us on this so-called "Chaos". In return, while The Empire will certainly accept gold as payment, I think it will be far more constructive if we offer them developmental aid, manufactured goods, and military assistance. We've already been able to convince UNASEC to authorize provisions of military support to some of the native factions on Planet EE-L5 due to Mordor's aggression, so I think we may be able to negotiate similar arrangements for EE-L0, especially given that the UN personnel here have witnessed for themselves some of the threats facing The Empire Of Man.

Either way, we will make sure to capitalize to the best extent we can on this great opportunity. Our first rounds of talks today have so far been promising, even though they have been primarily introductory. Tomorrow's negotiations will be much more specific, and we will have a more detailed report as to these proceedings ready by tomorrow evening.

 **§6.4. Political & Legal Implications  
**  
First of all, it is important to note that these hostilities were instigated by the Beastmen, and *NOT* by us. The order to employ force against these indigenes came from Capt. Müller, and only after he had followed UNASEC protocols in ensuring that said use of force was only a last resort. Capt. Müller, of course, was acting out of concern for the safety of Luthor Huss' followers, and as we know, while the UN claims to protect "all sapient beings equally", the truth is that human lives * _always*_ come first before the lives of non-humans, and we are glad to see that the men and women of the UNCDF recognize this fact even if not officially.

While his intentions are noble, we believe Capt. Müller may be subject to investigation by UNASEC for his decision to instigate hostilities against the indigenes. We expect that Amb. Alpers, as well as all other UN and Company™ personnel who were present, as well as our new native "allies", will all vouch for the Captain, and I urge the rest of The Company™ Board to adopt a similar stance and offer whatever legal, political, and financial assistance that we can to Herr Müller. And if, however unlikely, he does face discharge from the UN for his actions, I recommend that we very graciously and immediately extend an offer to the good Captain to work for an organization that will appreciate his skills and pro-Human values.

Either way, I think it is very clear that these Beastmen and this larger so-called "Chaos" faction represent a major threat to all human activity on Planet EE-L0, and we hope that most politicians and bureaucrats back on Earth appreciate this fact and grant us further discretion and authority in our dealings with these natives. We have to be able to defend ourselves against the dangers of this world, first and foremost. But we also have a clear moral duty to help our fellow _Homo sapiens_ defend themselves (and if we just so happen to turn a profit in the process, that's just the icing on the cake), and preferably without some of the current regulations and restraints on our range of activities that UNASEC is unduly imposing.

 **§6.5. Misc. Matters  
**  
We recommend commendations for the following individuals:

1\. Capt. **Hans Ulrich Müller** (Star Fleet): for decisive and efficient leadership during the entire affair, in both diplomacy and combat operations.  
2\. Sgt. **Nasratullah Rashid** (Marine Corps): for leading the ground strike force, and for quick-thinking and steadfastness during the course of the battle.  
3\. Lt. **Margaret Wright** (Star Fleet)  & Sgt. **Marcus Wright** (Marine Corps): kill-counters confirmed that, discounting the later bombing run conducted by Lt. Holmen, the Wright Siblings had the highest individual kill-counts of any of the participants in this battle. We also have to applaud Sgt. Wright for his tastes in music.  
4\. Dr. **András Barath** (Company™): our colony's resident chemical engineer had the idea of jury-rigging mining explosives as a final _coup de grâce_ for the offending natives.

* * *

 ***Footnote[1]: The Empire Of Man** , known locally as " ** _Das Imperium Der Menschen_** " (in their native language of **_Reikspiel_** , which is coincidentally very similar to German), is one of the largest, most populous, and most influential sovereign states on Planet EE-L0. Their technological, cultural, and social development level seems to be currently hovering around the level of 17th/18th century Europe, although their widespread use of thaumaturgy and practical alchemy seems to compensate in many areas where they are lacking. Please see the separate report that we are in the process of preparing on The Empire and its population, geography, culture, economy, language, technology, military, and perhaps most importantly, what they can offer to us in terms of trade and thaumaturgical expertise.

 ***Footnote[2]** : the **"Cult Of Sigmar"** the primary religion of the Empire (though there are many others practiced too) is the worship of the first Emperor, **Sigmar Heldenhammer** , whose symbols include, among many others, a hammer and a twin-tailed comet.

 ***Footnote[3]: "Beastmen"** , humanoid organic life-forms that are extremely aggressive and hostile. We originally used the taxonomic designation " _Homo ungulatus_ " (Latin: "hoofed man") for this species, as the vast majority of the individual forms observed from orbit in the month prior to our landings seemed to display characteristics of the mammalian clade _ungulata_. However, in light of the discovery of several non-ungulate variations, it has been proposed that we rename the species _Homo bestialis_ ("beastly man"), with individual strains of the species receiving a trinomen (for example, we propose the name _H. bestialis bovis_ for identified bovine variants). We are in the process of preparing a separate report summarizing what we have learnt as to this species' biology, habitat, behavior, and, most importantly, how can we legally exterminate them before they make themselves a further nuisance to our colonization plans. But from what we have learnt so far, it seems all Beastmen are aligned with a faction called "Chaos".

 ***Footnote[4]** : **"Chaos"** is the collective term used by the natives of EE-L0 to refer to certain malevolent and highly thaumically potent beings ( _deities_ for all intents and purposes) and their influence, their servants and worshippers, and what we believe is the parallel dimension/universe in which they reside. We believe that "Chaos" may be the same as the numerous ultra-hostile and aberrant forms we have observed over the last month from orbit. Naturally, we have identified "Chaos" to be a major threat to our interests on this planet, and are currently seeking out the advice of natives including The Empire on how to counter and contain this danger. Please see the separate report that we are preparing on the phenomenon of "Chaos".

 ***Footnote[5]** : **Emperor Karl Franz I** is the current head-of-state of The Empire. The Emperor's full name and title is: _His Majesty Emperor Karl Franz The First Of House Holswig Schlestein, Protector Of The Empire, Defier Of The Dark, Grand Prince and Elector-Count Of Reikland, Prince Of Altdorf, and Warden Of The West March_. Based on our satellite observations, the Emperor seems a capable melee combatant who wields, among other things, a warhammer that appears to be highly thaumically potent, and we are told has belonged to the first Emperor, Sigmar Heldenhammer (the one who is now worshipped by the Empire, see footnote[2]).

 ***Footnote[6]** : " **Giant** " or _Homo giganticus_ , a large humanoid species that we are still trying to ascertain their relationship to the Beastmen. In addition to the giants, the herd also deployed similarly sized creatures called " **Ghorgons** " by the natives (no relation to "Gorgons" of Classical Greek Mythology), but that seem to be a larger variant of _Homo bestialis_. We designated this subspecies _Homo bestialis ghorgona_.

 ***Footnote[7]** : " **Jabberslythe** ," a large terrestrial species first encountered during this event and that seems to defy classification as it combines elements of the classes _reptilia_ , _amphibia_ , _insecta_ , and others too, leading us to presume that perhaps the evolution of this species may have been influenced heavily by the mutagenic properties of thaumic energy. For the time being, we have designated this species _Jabberslythicus foedus_ (a combination of its native name and Latin "ugly/filthy").

 ***Footnote[8]: "Imperial Griffon"** or _Gryphus nobilis_ is the designation we have given to the species of large chimeric creatures that seem to possess characteristics of both the mammalian genus _Panthera_ (that includes lions, tigers, leopards, and jaguars), and the avian subfamily _Buteoninae_ , (which includes buzzards, sea eagles, and "true" eagles). How such a chimeric entity is able to evolve is something perhaps best explained by the same thaumaturgical properties as the aforementioned _H. bestialis_ and _J. foedus_.

 ** _This report was prepared by [NAMES REDACTED] on [DATE REDACTED]. The information and opinions expressed within are accurate to the fullest extent of these individuals' knowledge. All information contained within this report is to be considered CLASSIFIED; under no circumstances are any of the information above to be made public unless first reviewed by our Censorship Board._**


	15. The Empire Of Man

Dear [REDACTED]

Sir, as you've requested, here is the preliminary summary report we have prepared on this native sovereign state known as "The Empire Of Man". Obviously, it is by no means exhaustive, and the information we have compiled thus far comes primarily from our discussions with the individuals whom we are hosting at our colony, and from our own observations. But we hope to gather more information as we go along, particularly in The Empire's thaumaturgical knowledge and expertise.

Right now, the Emperor seems to be an agreeable chap, though I guess that's because he's pragmatic enough to realize how a deal with us could greatly benefit his reign. I'm not gonna lie, I kinda like the guy. There's no doubt that he was greatly impressed when we gave him the tour of our colony, and even more so (and somewhat relieved too) when we explained that none of our technology is based on "magic". Though at the same time, he definitely kept his composure and decorum throughout the entire affair, though I guess nothing less would be expected of a man of his position. I think this is the kind of native we could definitely do business with, and maybe even advertise on Earth as a "noble savage" and sell action-figures or something. He definitely seems like a real leader, more so than this "Mr. Denethor" or this "Mr. Robert Baratheon" that I'm reading from the reports from L5 and L4.

His counterpart Mr. Luthor Huss on the other hand seems a little more fanatic. I mean, he's grateful that we saved the lives of his followers, no doubt there, but he's also pretty adamant that we convert to Sigmar or something so that we won't fall as easily to "the corruption of Chaos". To be fair, after seeing these "Beastmen" in action, I don't blame him and his followers for their superstitious behavior. I suspect that this little cultural barrier might be a problem in hiring some of his followers, though fortunately, it seems that these guys are the fringe-groups. The Empire as a whole seems surprisingly tolerant of other religions, as long as they're not affiliated with "Chaos". I think that as long as we can continually prove that we're not "Chaos" affiliated, and help The Empire in its war efforts against "Chaos", I think we'll get along fine with these natives. Yeah, we may not follow their religion, but as long as our actions serve their religion's goals, they'll see no real reason to pick a fight with us. And if they do, we'll just have to, ahem, "make alternative arrangements", if you know what I mean.

Now with that all in mind, we've had one interesting political development today: after today's round of negotiations, The Emperor has proposed an exchange of ambassadors. We're thinking to send VICI to the capital as our representative. The UN too might want to send someone, in which case, it is our hope that they send Captain Müller. He is a competent and experienced naval officer, who is able to defend himself if need be, speaks German (and thus can converse with the natives without a universal translator), and unlike the rest of UNASEC, has staunchly pro-Human views and understands the level of threat The Empire is facing from non-Human entities.

The Emperor has not yet named his ambassador yet, but we have reason to suspect that he may nominate Luthor Huss's protégé, a young man named Valten. Though surprising at first, we suspect that The Emperor has his own agenda: as stated in my previous correspondence, Luthor Huss has recently made himself a bit of a thorn in the side of the Imperial Establishment, and Valten is one of his movement's major figureheads. By appointing Valten as his representative, The Emperor may be hoping to undermine Luthor, either by winning Valten over to his side, or at the very least hoping that our influence would greatly diminish Valten's role in Luthor's plans.

I will keep you updated as to how this situation unfolds.

Best regards,

[REDACTED]

* * *

 **THE EMPIRE OF MAN** **  
** **Official name** : _Das Imperium der Menschen_ (Riekspiel: "The Empire Of Man")*

 _*NOTE: we at The Company™ suggest officially designating this polity "The Holy Empire" or "The Empire Of Sigmar" or "The Imperium Of Man" or some variation thereof in order to (a) distinguish them from other sovereign states in the Epsilon Eridani System that have "Empire" in their name; and (b) make them more catchy and marketable in our inevitable merchandise such as toys, video games, bobble-heads, t-shirts, Halloween costumes, tabletop wargames, etc._

 **I. OFFICIAL SYMBOL/FLAG** : a skull wearing a laurel wreath, inscribed within a golden 4-armed Iron Cross. We are told that the top, left, and right arms of the cross symbolize the Northern, Western, and Eastern tribes that formed the ancient Empire, while the bottom arm represents the Dwarves, The Empire's oldest allies. This sigil is usually displayed on a red background on official flags and banners. Individual provinces, city-states, and noble houses have their own heraldry as well.

 **II. POPULATION** : 75 million

 **III. CAPITAL** : Altdorf*

 _*NOTE: currently; the capital can move based on the reigning Emperor's choice, but most Emperors choose Altdorf both for tradition, and also as Altdorf is one of the wealthiest cities and thus yields higher tax revenues._

 **IV. LANGUAGE(S)** : **_Reikspiel_** (which is similar enough to German that German-speakers can converse with Imperials) with regional dialects varying greatly across the Provinces; other languages spoken too include _**Kislevarin**_ (similar to Russian, spoken in regions bordering the "Kingdom Of Kislev"), and **_Breton_** (similar to French, common in areas bordering the "Kingdom Of Bretonnia").

 **V. GOVERNMENT** : federal elective monarchy.

The Empire is a confederation of 11 semi-independent Provinces, bound together by a common language, history, and culture. Each Province has a substantial amount of control over its own affairs, as communications and transportation infrastructure are still basic, and make it difficult for the central government to exercise control over the entire territory. There are also 4 cities within The Empire that are powerful and wealthy enough that they are almost self-governing, as city-states.

The Emperor is the head-of-state and commander-in-chief of The Empire, and serves for life. As of this writing, the current Emperor is Karl Franz I (r. 2132 C.E. / 2502 I.C.* to present). Full title: _His Majesty Emperor Karl Franz The First Of House Holswig-Schleistein, Protector Of The Empire, Defier Of The Dark, Grand Prince And Elector-Count Of Reikland, Prince Of Altdorf, And Warden Of The West March_.

 _*NOTE: see IX below for more on the Imperial Calendar._

Surprisingly, unlike most monarchies in both real life and in fantasy, the succession is not hereditary, but rather elected. The Imperial Council consists of 15 voting members: the 11 rulers of each of the Empire's Provinces (10 "Elector Counts" and 1 "Elder Of The Moot"; see X below), the "Grand Theogonist" (head of the Cult Of Sigmar, see VIII), the Theogonist's two assistant "Arch-Lectors", and the "Ar-Ulric" (head of the Cult Of Ulric, see VIII).

 **VI. TECHNOLOGY LEVEL** : roughly 1600's/1700's

The Empire is far more advanced than any of the EE-L4 or L5 nations, but well behind the L3 nations and even further behind us, hovering at a level roughly equivalent to Europe's Early Modern / Pre-Industrial Era. Clockwork mechanisms, rifling, and even coal-fired steam engines are known, but not common. The Empire's "industry" is still pre-Bessemer Process, and concentrated primarily around the City Of Nuln. However, it appears that The Empire uses practical thaumaturgy and alchemy to compensate in many areas.

 **VII. CURRENCY** : Imperial Gold Crown*

 _*NOTE: a formal exchange rate between the Crown and the other currencies in use in the system, such as the United Nations Credit, the Westerosi Gold Dragon, and the Gondorian Castar, is yet to be established._

 **VIII. RELIGION** : The Empire is a surprisingly multi-religious and polytheistic society, with the worship of many deities permitted as long as they are not affiliated with "Chaos". However, the most prominent and powerful "religion" is the **Cult Of Sigmar** , the formal church-like organization that worships the First Emperor, **Sigmar Heldenhammer**. The current leader of this cult, the Grand Theogonist, enjoys almost as much political power as the Emperor himself. The second most commonly-worshipped deity is the wolf god **Ulric**. Other worshipped deities include: **Taal** (god of nature), **Rhya** (consort of Taal, goddess of motherhood), **Manann** (god of the ocean), **Morr** (god of death), and **Shallya** (goddess of healing).*

 _*NOTE: we cannot at this time confirm nor deny the existence of any of these deities, although we speculate, similar to the phenomenon of "Chaos", that at least some of these deities may be thaumaturgy-based entities._

 **IX. CALENDAR** : the Imperial Calendar (I.C.), beginning with the crowning of the first Emperor, Sigmar Heldenhammer, and consisting of a 400-day year, broken down into 12 months of 32-33 days each, and 6 intercalary holidays. As of November 2154 C.E., the current year of the Imperial Calendar is 2522 I.C.

1\. _Hexenstag_ ("Witching Day"/New Years Day): 1 day

2\. _Nachhexen_ ("After Witching"): 32 days

3\. _Jahrdrung_ ("Year-Turn"): 33 days

4\. _Mitterfruhl_ (Spring Equinox): 1 day

5\. _Pflugzeit_ ("Plough Month"): 33 days

6\. _Sigmarzeit_ ("Sigmar Month"): 33 days

7\. _Sommerzeit_ ("Summer Month"): 33 days

8\. _Sonstill_ (Summer Solstice): 1 day

9\. _Vorgeheim_ ("Before Mystery"): 33 days

10\. _Geheimnistag_ ("Mystery Day"): 1 day

11\. _Nachgeheim_ ("After Mystery"): 32 days

12\. _Erntzeit_ ("Harvest Month"): 33 days

13\. _Mittherbst_ (Autumn Equinox): 1 day

14\. _Brauzeit_ ("Brew Month"): 33 days

15\. _Kaldezeit_ ("Cold Month"): 33 days

16\. _Ulriczeit_ ("Ulric's Month"): 33 days

17\. _Mondstill_ (Winter Solstice): 1 day

18\. _Vorhexen_ ("Before Witching"): 33 days

 **X. PROVINCES OF THE EMPIRE** : 11 in total

1\. **The Grand Principality Of Reikland** : the most important province, located in the west, and named after the River Reik that flows through it. The capital and semi-independent city-state of Altdorf is located within the Reikland. Currently ruled by **Emperor Karl Franz** himself.

2\. **The Grand Duchy Of Middenland** : located north of Reikland, and the second most populous and important province. Currently governed by **Count Boris Todbringer**. The worship of the god Ulric is most prominent in Middenland.

3\. **The Grand County Of Nordland** : located north of Middenland and west of Ostland, with extensive coasts and sea trade. Currently ruled by **Count Theodoric Gausser**.

4\. **The Grand Duchy Of Ostland** : located east of Nordland and Hochland, and north of Talabecland, this is the Province that our colony of Crimson EquinoX is currently located within the territory of. Ostland also borders on the neighboring Kingdom Of Kislev, and thus includes many ethnic Kislevarin-speakers amongst its primarily Reikspiel-speaking populace. Like Middenland, worship of Ulric is the most common religion here. The center of Ostland is dominated by the "Middle Mountains", and the "Forest Of Shadows". Currently ruled by **Count Valmir von Raukov**.

5\. **The Grand Barony Of Hochland** : located between Middenland, Ostland, and Talabecland; known for being perhaps the most heavily forested Province. Currently ruled by **Count Aldebrand Ludenhof**.

6\. **The Grand Duchy Of Talabecland** : a central province located east of Reikland and south of Hochland and Ostland, named after the Talabec River (itself named after the god Taal, whose worship is prominent in this region). Governed by **Count Helmut Feuerbach**.

7\. **The League Of Ostermark** : the easternmost province of The Empire, and the one most frequently ravaged by war due to its position on the eastern frontier of The Empire and exposure to hostile entities from the north, east, and south. Governed by **Count Wolfram Hertwig**.

8\. **The Grand County Of Stirland** : a large but relatively impoverished province south of Talabecland. Ruled by **Count Alberich Haupt-Anderssen**. The easternmost region of Stirland, **Sylvania** , is a _de facto_ independent nation ruled by Vampires.

9\. **The Grand County Of The Moot** : a region between Stirland and Averland home to an indigenous population called "Halflings", who seem to be physically similar to the so-called "Hobbits" or _Homo floriensis eridaniensis_ found on Planet EE-L5. Although considered a different race, the "Halflings" are largely integrated into The Empire, and have been granted their own autonomy as a Province, complete with an Imperial Council seat. This function is performed by a leader called "The Elder Of The Moot", and is currently held by **Hisme Stoutheart**.

10\. **Averland** : located south of Stirland and Mootland, and east of Wissenland. The current office of "Elector Count" is empty and **disputed** between several prominent Averlands houses, as the previous Count Marius Leitdorf has recently passed away with no clear heir. Perhaps we could "assist" The Empire in settling this minor succession crisis.

11\. **Wissenland** : located west of Averland. Currently ruled by the **Countess Emmanuelle von Leibewitz** (the only woman currently serving on the Imperial Council).

A 12th province known as " **Westerland** " (not to be confused with "The Westerlands" of "Westeros" on Planet EE-L4) was formerly part of The Empire before since breaking away about a century ago.

 **XI. MAJOR CITIES** :*

 _*NOTE: this list is non-exhaustive. Population estimates are approximate and based on our own satellite observations._

1\. **Altdorf** : Capital Of Reikland and of The Empire, and seat of the Cult Of Sigmar; 500,000 inhabitants.

2\. **Marienburg** , formerly part of the Empire, but now capital of the independent Westerlands; 700,000.

3\. **Nuln** , Semi-Autonomous City State located between Reikland and Wissenland, _de facto_ capital of Wissenland, and The Empire's current industrial center; 400,000.

4\. **Middenheim** , Capital Of Middenland, and center of the Cult Of Ulric; 300,000.

5\. **Talabheim** , Capital Of Talabecland; 250,000.

6\. **Wolfenburg** , Capital Of Ostland; 100,000.

7\. **Hergig** , Capital Of Hochland; 80,000.

8\. **Salzenmund** , Capital Of Nordland; 60,000.

9\. **Eicheschatten** , Capital Of The Moot; 50,000.

10\. **Wissenburg** , _de jure_ Capital of Wissenland; 50,000.

11\. **Bechafen** , Capital Of Ostermark; 30,000.

12\. **Salkaten** , Ostland's main seaport, and the nearest city to our colony; 30,000.

13\. **Mordheim** , former Capital Of Ostermark, abandoned and depopulated.

 **XII. MILITARY STRENGTH:** approx. 1 million men-at-arms

The Empire's military consists of "State Troops" similar to the European "Pike-And-Shot" Era of warfare, roughly 1600 to 1700. Imperial Armies in the field are made up primarily of pikemen, halberdiers, and swordsmen, supported by archers, crossbowmen, and soldiers equipped with black powder firearms ranging from the earliest matchlock arquebuses, to proper flintlock muskets, and even a few simple revolvers and rifles. The Empire also deploys artillery such as cannons and even a multi-rocket launch system similar to the Korean _Hwacha_ of the 1590's.

Just like Renaissance / Early Modern nations in Europe, The Empire still fields cavalry recruited from the nobility, and includes a number of knightly orders similar to Earth's own like the Teutonic Knights or the Knights Templar. However, some of these cavalry units ride on mounts more exotic than mere horses, such as "Griffons" and "Demi-gryphs", chimeric (and possibly thaumically-induced) combinations of mammalian and avian life-forms.

And, of course, The Empire also frequently deploys magic-practitioners in their armies (see XIV).

 **XIII. NATURAL RESOURCES:**

The Empire covers a large and geologically diverse territory, and thus also has a wide variety of natural resources to offer, both for producing the basic goods needed to support our colony, and also for interplanetary trade. For starters, we chose the site of our colony of Crimson EquinoX because it provides ample minerals such as hematite, potash, coltan, ilmenite, and also the more valuable yttrium and platinum-group metals such as iridium and palladium (consistent with the other unusually bountiful iridium and platinum deposits we have discovered on the other planets of the EE System). There are also abundant coal reserves as well.

Much of The Empire's land surface area is dominated by forest, although we are warned that these areas also serve as the habitat for these so-called "Beastmen". We will of course assist The Empire in the harvesting its forests in a, ahem, "sustainable manner" so as to aid in the quiet removal of this nuisance to our colonization plans.

However, in spite of their mineral wealth, by far the most valuable resource The Empire can offer us is their knowledge in thaumaturgy.

 **XIV. THAUMATURGY:**

Planet EE-L0 is the largest and most thaumically active world in the Epsilon Eridani System, and according to our sources, almost every native faction on this planet employs some form of practical thaumaturgy. The Empire is no exception, and regularly employs Wizards as military combatants, physicians, and other roles too (even though magic-practitioners are traditionally treated with fear or suspicion by the common people).

The Empire is home to Eight "Imperial Colleges Of Magic", eight institutions that train thaumically potent individuals in one of eight different magical arts (called "Winds Of Magic") to become officially licensed Wizards. We are informed that some of these Wizards are allegedly capable of some rather impressive feats. If true, then I recommend we contact these individuals immediately for their assistance in helping us develop a practical thaumaturgy program at our colony with the long-term goals of integrating thaumaturgy into our technology.

The Empire also has a lot to offer us on this phenomenon of "Chaos", which seems to occur in dangerously thaumically active areas, or among individuals who have high thaumic potential but are untrained in controlling these potentially dangerous powers. The Empire has been actively combating "Chaos"-affiliated factions for its entire history, and so they would be knowledgeable in how to detect and counter these threats.

 **XV. TRADE POTENTIAL:**

The Empire has much to offer us in terms of land (for resource extraction or for colonial settlement), cheap manual labor, and knowledge and experience of practical thaumaturgy. In return, we can pay for these goods and services with gold ingots, manufactured goods, and developmental assistance.

However, after our battle against the Beastmen, we are certain that The Empire will be keenly interested in military assistance, such as the purchase of firearms and ammunition. Even an 1870's Martini-Henry lever-action rifle (modified and chambered for our 7.62mm ammunition) would represent a major technological leap over their current matchlocks and flintlocks. We, of course, have no intentions of providing any assault rifles or machine guns; not only is the sale of "automatic weapons" forbidden by the UN, but we also do not wish to arm these natives with anything they can use against us, at least not until we have more firmly established our presence on this world.

Aside from weapons, we can provide other goods that The Empire's military can utilize: uniforms, boots, medicines, tools, simple electric lights, improved wagons, water treatment, food storage containers, and radios. And we can also provide information: our satellites can detect large armies as they assemble, and we can warn The Empire of new "Beastman", "Orc", or "Chaos Warrior" incursions and the composition thereof. For a fair price, of course.

In the long-term, another resource we should consider offering is that of infrastructure improvements; most notably, The Empire's transportation networks, which will not only boost trade, but also provide for the common defense. The ability to rapidly deploy armies to war zones will be as invaluable as any weapon we are willing to provide at this time. Our "Badger" road-cutting machines can cut up to 20 miles of motorable road surfaces in one day through most flat terrain, and we are also investigating the possibility of introducing railroads. In the long-term, of course, our colonies would be connected by our own high-speed maglev network, but The Empire may be content for now with "conventional" railroads serviced by Company™-built steam trains (as coal is fairly abundant locally).

 ** _This report was filed on [DATE REDACTED] by [NAMES REDACTED] and may contain sensitive information, and thus must be reviewed by our Censorship Board before being released to the public._**


	16. They're Taking The War To Isengard

_Chapter 16: They're Taking The War To Isengard_

 **Gandalf The Grey (I)**

From his vantage point atop the towering Orthanc, Gandalf watched with ever growing trepidation and anger as the devastation unfolded below him. The once verdant gardens and woods of the fortress and the fertile lands around it were slowly but surely churned up and mined to provide the fuel and material for the great smoking war forges that were burning away, covering the land in a thin blanket of black smoke and embers and evil.

A figure approached from behind him. The Grey Wizard turned to see who could only be none other than the White Wizard himself, or had been once. For the Saruman who now greeted him had altered his appearance considerably; now, he had forsaken his flowing white robes in favor of a simple black tunic and belt, and a fine black cape, secured across his shoulders by a short gold chain. He had also trimmed his once-long hair and beard so that both were now short and cleanly cut.

"The cycle is complete," began Saruman's deep booming voice, "we were equals once, but now I am the master!"

"Only a master of evil, Saruman The White!" retorted Gandalf.

"Charming to the last," replied Saruman, not bothered in the slightest, "but I am afraid you are mistaken old friend. I am no longer Saruman The White! No, you may call me ... _Saruman Of Many Colors!_ "

"Sure, whatever you say," mumbled Gandalf, rolling his eyes, unimpressed. "You do realize you are still little more than a mere slave, dabbling in powers far beyond that either of us were ever meant to deal in?"

"I find your lack of faith in my vision disturbing," glared Saruman as he raised his staff and pointed it threateningly at the Grey Wizard, "I would choose my next words carefully if I were you."

Gandalf, however, stood his ground, unperturbed in the least. "Go ahead, Saruman. If you strike me down, I will become more powerful than you will ever imagine!"

The two wizards glared at one another for a long but silent moment, as Saruman considered Gandalf's words. Then, he turned and simply stormed off, fuming. As he began to make his way back down the stairs down Orthanc, he turned to make one last snide comment: "let me know if Mister Olorin The Wanderer here wants a magazine or something to keep himself occupied."

"Some pipeweed would be sure to hit the spot, if that could be arranged, thank you very much," shouted Gandalf after him.

No reply came, save for thick doors being slammed shut.

* * *

 **Main Command Center  
Colony of "Beautiful Horizon"  
Western Coast Of "Enedwaith" Region  
Continent Of "Middle Earth"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5**

"We sure about this, sir?" asked Christopher Tremblay from behind his desk, somewhat nervous.

"Absolutely," replied Jonathan Teller, sure of himself, as he looked over the satellite images on his HoloTablet that Tremblay had sent him. "According to VIDI, the physical appearance of these two individuals matches perfectly with information we recovered from the Minas Tirith archives. There's no denying it; we've got two wizards here. And it looks like one of them has turned on the other and is now supporting Sauron. Either way, I daresay bringing these two individuals into our custody would be an invaluable boost to thaumaturgical research efforts."

"Still, sir, is this operation appropriate?" asked Angela Cheong, "I know we're now officially at war with Mordor, and that this so-called 'Isengard' could pose a major threat to both our colonies, and to Gondor's ally Rohan... but shouldn't we at least wait until Isengard actually does something that could be legally construed as an act of aggression?"

"That's why we're gonna keep things secret," replied Teller, "VIDI and the Arcturus mercs will have to handle this. We'll send all of them in under the guise of a 'diplomatic mission' to try and convince Isengard to break its ties with Mordor, and when they inevitably attack us, we just retaliate in 'self-defense' as we did last time."

"Yes, I can imagine Mr. Rasolski will be only too pleased to be dressing as an Elf too this time," muttered Tremblay.

Teller's MyPhone rang. He immediately answered it to the rather inexplicably irate voice of Inspector Lynn: "Mr. Teller," he began, curtly and to the point, "come to my office immediately."

Tremblay and Cheong cast a worried glance at one another as they overheard this. Teller too had to admit that this was unusual. "Uh... sure," he replied, "something wrong?"

" _Immediately_ , Mr. Teller," repeated Lynn, annoyed, and hung up.

* * *

 **Inspector Lynn's Office  
Several minutes later...  
**  
"Mr. Lynn, you called for me?" asked Jonathan Teller as he and Angela Cheong strode into Steve Lynn's office and looked around. There was an open suitcase in the corner, and several neatly pressed and dry-cleaned suits and ties hanging in clear plastic garment bags hanging on his coat-rack. It was apparent that the UN Inspector was in the midst of packing up and getting ready to leave on a week-long inspection of the Autumn's Frontier colony over on EE-L4.

"Mr. Teller, please take a seat," commanded Inspector Lynn, not pleased at all in the slightest. Teller was taken aback, but followed through with his request. He continued: "what, pray tell, is the meaning of this?"

"I beg your pardon?" asked Teller, though he dreaded he already knew what he was talking about.

Lynn said nothing, but instead held up his HoloTablet, and immediately pulled up several holographic photographs and files. Teller blinked in disbelief. It was the faces of all of the Arcturus Legion mercenaries.

"I'm sure these two in particular look familiar," began Lynn, coldly, as he began to read from his files. "Demetria Romanovna Raskalnikova. Age 29. From Petrograd, Union Of Russian Republics. Suspected to be a member of the Arcturus Legion mercenary company. Giedre Valiuté. Age 26. Born in Vilnius, Poland-Lithuania Commonwealth. Last known whereabouts: also suspected to have joined the Arcturus Legion. Yes, I'm sure these 'geological surveyors' make quite the diplomats, don't they? Why don't I continue? Pyotr Rasolski, also informally known as "Rosso" by his associates. Age 29. Born on Jan Sobieski Lunar Colony, Poland-Lithuania Commonwealth. Also a ..."

"Your point, Mr. Lynn?" asked Teller, cutting him off.

"Mr. Teller, I think I can figure out exactly what kind of game you're playing around here," seethed Steve, "the bigger question is: did you honestly think we were never gonna find out? UNASEC _always_ finds out."

Teller, true to what was expected of every loyal Company™ employee in the face of a challenge, remained calm but defiant. "So ... what is UNASEC going to do about it, if I may ask? Are you perhaps suggesting that we all go fly over to Mordor and say 'we're sorry' and then make up with Mr. Sauron and sit in a circle holding hands and singing 'Kumbaya'?"

"I have half a mind to do just that," sneered Steve, "seriously though, what the hell? Are you really asking for another Alpha Centauri? It's only been a few years; or have you already forgotten the fines your organization had to pay last time so that we wouldn't shut down your little operation?"

"Mr. Lynn, with all due respect, you saw yourself what Gondor is up against!" blurted Angela.

"Angela, it's fine," insisted Teller, "I'll handle this."

Angela looked at Teller for a second, and then turned back to face the irate inspector: "Mr. Lynn, what is the purpose of the UN?"

"To protect and serve humanity," began Lynn, "Lady, look, don't lecture me on what my job is!"

"Is that it then?" pressed Angela, "you visited Minas Tirith too! Saw for yourself firsthand the desperation these people are facing, and what it's done to their leaders like Mr. Denethor! And how long did Mr. Boromir stay with us here at the colony? Did you even bother talking to him once during that time? Gondor is fighting for its very _survival_ against a literally _inhuman_ enemy that practices _genocide_ , and all you can think of is sitting here at your desk and worrying about UNASEC Regulations and what not?" She cast a quick glance around the room, at Lynn's luggage. "And now you're even leaving us alone here, just as the war's picking up, to decide for ourselves how to handle this situation, while you're over on L4 partying with Fred and Daniel and the King. I wonder if Ambassador Alpers or Captain Müller would perhaps be so kind to fly in and fill in for you."

"Don't you _dare_ bring my colleagues into this!" snapped Lynn.

 _Colleagues... or rivals?_ wondered Teller to himself.

"Why not?" pressed Angela, "they're not afraid to recognize when sometimes, the UN needs to stop burying its head in the moral high ground, and come down and get its hands dirty to do what needs to be done, for the greater good of humankind."

Lynn said nothing, but only glared at her for several moments. Then, still fuming, he picked up the telephone on his desk and began to dial...

"Sergeant Rico? Harris?" he began, "get a strike team ready. Capture & Extraction mission. I'll fill you in on the details when I see you next." Teller and Cheong looked at each other, silent, but secretly somewhat relieved inside. Lynn hung up, and addressed the two of them, sternly: "look, whatever wild goose chase you're cooking up, I'll have you know that The Company™ and the Arcturus Legion will have no further part in it. This is a UNASEC operation now. I'll show you how it's done! And I want those bloodthirsty Arcturus war criminals off this planet as soon as possible."

"Um... okay," replied Teller, not quite sure if he should be pleased or not.

* * *

 **Rec Center  
Colony of "Beautiful Horizon"  
Several days later...**

"ROSSO!" shouted Demya Raskalnikova, "C'mon, _Tovarisch!_ You can do it!"

"ROSSO!" shouted the rest of the Arcturus Mercs, cheering him on.

Pyotr "Rosso" Rasolski, however, was oblivious to his squadmates' support. At that moment, he was fixated only on his opponent seated across the table from him, every muscle in his right arm straining as he locked arms with Corporal Kyra Lynn of the United Nations Colonial Marines (and, as it turns out, the cousin of one rather irritable UNASEC inspector...).

"Ky-RA! Ky-RA! Ky-RA!" chanted the rest of the UN Marines as they too gathered around, cheering on their comrade. Back and forth, the arm wrestling match wore on and on as what was only minutes probably felt like hours or even days.

And then, with a final heave, Rosso lost it as Kyra rallied whatever strength she had left in her arm, and drove his hand right onto the tabletop. Rosso lost, and the room went wild with cheers from the Marines, and boos and hisses from his fellow, ahem, 'geological surveyors'.

"Ha-HA!" cried Private Felipe "Phil" Antigo, "¡Ey, you lost! ¡Pay up, _pendejo!_ "

" _Blyad'!_ " swore Pavel Bukakhin as he begrudgingly shoved over a wad of UN Credits in Felipe's direction. " _Kurwa!_ Just wait 'til I beat you next round!"

Rosso too was a bit miffed about losing, though to his opponent's credit, at least she wasn't gloating too much over it. "I have to say, you're pretty darn good," muttered Kyra as she stood up, wiping the sweat off her brow, "for a humble 'geological surveyor' that is." She smirked.

Rosso shrugged. "I served three tours with Poland-Lithuania Armed Forces. You know who stopped the Russians advancing into Europe in World War Three? We did!"

"And now you work for them," muttered Kyra, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah... and only with the rest of Europe's help," laughed Private Jan Adamsen, also of the Colonial Marines.

"And 'Murka too!" cut in Private Jeff Caldwell, taking a swig from his beer, "gosh dang it to heck, it's like 'Murka has ta keep bailin' you Yurpeans outta whenever y'all start fightin' each other!"

"Yeah, except that America is always late to join in the fun," chided Demya.

"Hey!" shot up Kyra, "America is never too late nor too early, but joins the war _precisely_ when we mean to." She winked. She was met with a roar of laughter from everyone. And with that, Marines and Mercs alike opened their beers and raised a toast.

"So, you guys are shipping out to L0 tomorrow?" asked Adamsen.

"Da! Colony need leetul 'geological surveyink' done," bawled Bukakhin loudly, "Mozher Roosha help make thees 'Empire' beeg and stronk!"

"Yeah, I heard they got some real fucked up shit on that planet," agreed Caldwell, "ma buddy, Cale Sanders, he just blew up some dragon thingy by shovin' some grenades up its ass, or sumthang!"

"¡Ey _muchachos_! I heard El Zero's also got some Russians of its own," added in Felipe.

"Look, whatever it is you guys are up to, Godspeed," remarked Kyra, "you guys are sure gonna need it."

"Thanks, comrade," replied Rosso, "you too. Wizards or not, be careful alright?"

* * *

 **Darth Saruman (I)  
**  
The formerly White Wizard knew it was a bright day outside, but here within his central chamber, it was dark as all the blinds and doors were sealed shut, so that he may concentrate his undivided attention upon the orb of dark crystal that stood in front of him.

He frowned. The _Palantír_ showed him a great many things, but not quite what he was looking for. Yes, these last few days he had puzzled over the visions Sauron had sent him, of the battle that had transpired between the Mouth and these three mysterious Elven ladies who boasted remarkable powers of combat not seen since the First Age. But it did not reveal to him yet the true nature of these individuals.

The destruction of Mirkwood, Lorien, and Lindon were, of course, already part of Sauron's long-term agenda. But somehow, he had realized, these supposedly "Elven" emissaries were not of any of these realms. No, it was apparent that these strangers were indeed a new power, one from beyond even the stars themselves. They were not of this world and thus not yet attuned to its powers and influences. But that was sure to change. These beings, powerful as they were, were still but mere mortal men, that much was clear, and thus they would of course give in to the same weaknesses as any other.

Just then, he heard footsteps behind him. He began: "have I not instructed you that I am not to be disturbed?"

"Mastah," growled the Uruk-Hai Captain, Lurtz, bowing penitently, "sorry, but we 'ave an urgunt mattah. Sumthin' 'as arrived at owah gatez!"

"What is it?" boomed the wizard's deep voice.

"Best come 'ave a lil' looksy yerself, mastah," answered the Uruk Hai captain as he bowed again and turned to lead the way to just what it was he had found...


	17. The Raid To Isengard

_**Chapter 17: The Raid To Isengard**_

 **Fortress designated "Isengard"  
"Misty Mountains" Sector  
"Middle Earth" Continent  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5**

It had been decided that this would be a nighttime stealth operation. For that reason, the Falcon had dropped them off several miles from the target, and the small six-man strike team would proceed the rest of the way on foot. Corporal Kyra Lynn of the UN Colonial Marine Corps had performed stealth missions perform, but never anything quite like the task now laid out before her. She was now starting to wonder if her cousin had done the right thing at all in authorizing this mission...

"Remember team: we're dealing with two highly 'thaumically potent' individuals here," warned Sergeant Rico as the dark pillar of the tower loomed in the distance, indicated on their night vision HUDs. "We're technically rescuing one of them and bringing the other one into custody, but both of them may resist arrest, so be on your guard. There's no telling what their abilities are, but Teller suggested we keep the audio filters on our helmets on at all times to block out any sound."

"Sir, yes sir!" replied the rest of the team, their voices all hissing with static over the comlink.

Rico cast a side glance at Private Felipe Antigo. "Besides," he warned, "don't want _Chico_ here busting your eardrums by accident."

"¡Whatever you say, _hefe!_ " smiled Felipe as he patted the "gun" he was carrying: an Atlas Corp Model M69 "Banshee" Sonic & Ultrasonic Device. A thick black power cable connected the "gun" to the large battery pack he was wearing on his back. Kyra had never seen (or rather _heard_ ) one of these babies in action ... and she didn't intend to start tonight, so she quickly checked to make damn sure her helmet audio filter was on 100%.

Because this was a capture mission, the team had been equipped primarily with non-lethals, though everyone still carried back-up live rounds, just in case. Sarge led the pack, toting a Stacker AR equipped mainly with low velocity rounds (still deadly, but designed to be slower than the regular 7.62mm ammunition to reduce risk of ricochet inside tight spaces), and an under-attached M25 net gun / grappling cable launcher combo in place of the usual grenade launcher. On his belt, he had his standard service pistol holstered, with two magazines - one of regular .44 Magnum rounds, and the other with special non-lethal rounds, each containing a single dose of some heavy duty tranquilizers (because you never know just how much you need to dope a wizard).

Private Jeff Caldwell was similarly armed. Felipe was carrying the Banshee of course, and his own Stacker clamped to his backpack unit. And Kyra herself and the two remaining party members, Adamsen and Dreyfus, were all armed with Arcturus-Tesla TE-500 "Tasgun" Electroshock Devices, each also with under-attached grappling guns. Everyone wore a bandolier stocked up with several grenades, of differing types, as well as extra spools of cable for their net guns ... oh, and everyone also each carried a roll of duct tape and a little plastic baggie of zip-ties to tie up the two wizards once they were restrained (because, as you know, duct tape is just about the strongest, most versatile, and most MacGyver-able substance in the universe. Kyra could have sworn she had once seen some third-rate spacer fixing up his starship with duct tape and plastic sheeting. Talk about a 'used future'...)

Their objective, so they had been instructed, resided at the top of the tower. It was dark, but the various fires burning around it were enough to illuminate the whole area enough that the Marines almost didn't need their night vision. The tower sat in the middle of a circular area, a mile wide, enclosed within an outer curtain wall over three miles long. Once they reached this first wall, the Marines used their grappling guns to fire cables over the wall and scale it – a task far easier said than done, but performed quickly and without complaint by the trained fighting men and women of the UNCDF.

It was only after all six of them had rappeled down the other side of the wall that they had their first encounter.

"Movement," murmured Private Dreyfus, "nine o'clock, fifty meters and closing."

Kyra saw that the little motion tracker in the lower lefthand corner of her helmet HUD indicated two small dots inbound. Once everyone had taken cover, she took the opportunity to look and see just what was coming their way...

"Looks like a routine patrol, two of them," whispered Adamsen, "I'll take out the one on the left."

"I got the one on the right," agreed Caldwell.

Kyra, however, took this opportunity to get a closer look. Yes, the figures approaching them were 'orcs' alright, and they were far uglier and repulsive seeing them in-person for the first time than seeing them on the satellite feed. These ones, however, looked different from the ones encountered by The Company™'s "diplomatic mission" - they were taller, more upright, stronger ... almost more human, in fact. _Shit_ , she wondered to herself, _is this Saruman guy breeding orcs ... with humans? Wait a minute, that could only mean ... no, Kyra, stay focused on the mission at hand!_

Before she could ponder over these disturbing implications any further, suddenly, two shadows emerged out of the darkness right behind the two "orcs". The first figure was that of Caldwell as he slowly approached the first hostile from behind ... and then he thrust his left hand forward over the creature's mouth, and yanked its head back, leaving its neck exposed, and with his right hand, slit his Marine-issue combat knife across its neck. Black blood came oozing out of the slash; the creature struggled for a few moments against Caldwell's tight grip, before it finally fell limp. When he released his grip, the creature slumped to the ground, motionless.

While all this was going on, Adamsen meanwhile dispatched the second orc in a likewise fashion. "Good work, you two," whispered Rico as he observed Caldwell and Adamsen from his vantage point, "let's hide those bodies and move on before the next patrol comes this way."

* * *

 _ **Several minutes later...  
**_  
"Man, look at this place," remarked Felipe, glancing around as they approached the tower, "it's like this Señor Saruman here is trying his best to piss off the green hippy crowd."

"Stay focused, Private," barked Rico, "satellite data said there'd be at least a few thousand of these creatures fucking around."

They encountered two more patrols before they finally reached the base of the tower. The main entrance was wide open, but being guarded by four night watchmen. Felipe picked up a stone, and threw it against the side of the tower, making a dull thud sound just loud enough for the orcs to hear. Two of the orcs immediately came over to investigate the source of the noise. Isolated from their peers, the two of them swiftly surrounded and dispatched. The team lay in wait a few minutes more as the two other orcs guarding the door begun to wonder what happened, and they too came over to investigate, and were dealt with similarly. So far, so good.

The doors led through into the large entrance hall at the base of the tower. "Alright, this is it," whispered the Sarge, "according to the Minas Tirith archives, there is a large circular stairwell in the center of the tower leading all the way to the top." He highlighted the objective in question in everyone's HUD. "There's no telling how Mr. Saruman may have altered the interior ever since he took over, but that's the best intel we have, so stay on guard and..."

The motion tracker suddenly came alive. Something was flying towards them, almost as fast as a bullet. Before anyone could react...

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" cried out Caldwell in pain as something struck him. Everyone turned to look. It was an enormous dart, about four feet in length, protruding from his left thigh. UNCDF Mk. 7 Ballistics Armor was built to deflect a couple 7.62mm rounds but a ballista bolt was something quite a bit larger ...

Kyra's motion tracker suddenly came alive, as something huge was moving right behind them. She turned around just in time to see the great doors they had just come through slammed shut.

"IT'S A TRAP!" shouted Felipe.

"INCOMING!" shouted Rico, followed a second later as two more darts came flying at them from the upper gallery above, and landed amongst them; they missed, but barely. Instinctively, he responded by opening fire, and the rest of the team followed suit. "Don't let 'em reload!" he commanded.

Kyra's helmet HUD indicated that there were at least five more ballista teams in the gallery, based on movement. Sure enough, one of them was struggling to move around the huge weapon, the size of a man, trying to aim at five small moving targets in a large dark room. The chance of a direct hit was a low one, but Kyra wasn't going to afford them that chance. She presented her Tasgun, took aim, and fired. Arcs of bright blue lightning went surging forth through the air, striking the orc with 24 amps and sending him practically flying backwards with the shock. Meanwhile, the three orcs manning the next ballista down were consumed in flame as Adamsen hurled an incendiary grenade that detonated among them, illuminating the entire chamber in a brilliant orange glow.

And then the motion tracker seemed to go haywire as two dozen more figures came charging and screaming out of smaller side-doors in the hall, waving all manner of swords and maces and other weapons.

"¡Eat this, _cabrones!_ " shouted Felipe as he pointed the Banshee at the first group approaching them and squeezed the trigger. _**BBBBWWWWAAAAHHHH!**_ screamed the Banshee. Actually, the Marines had their helmet filters on, so they didn't hear the sonic blast; they _saw_ it. Kyra could see the disruption in the air as the sound wave went rippling through it and struck the oncoming horde. The effect was immediate; five of the creatures were completely stunned as the ultrasound blast tore through their eardrums and other internal organs.

Kyra, meanwhile, turned up the power on her Tasgun from stun to kill, and unleashed another arc at their attackers. Dreyfus and Adamsen joined her too, and the three bursts of blue lightning lit up the dark hall in a brilliant display of light and pyrotechnics.

"Whatever happens, DON'T CROSS THE STREAMS!" shouted Adamsen.

The skirmish was brief, but hard-fought. Sergeant Rico had the last word as he drew his service pistol and quickly fired three shots in rapid succession at the last three attackers. He then shouted: "get that door!"

"Sir!" replied Adamsen, "doors locked and bolted from the other side! We'd need demo charges to clear them out!"

"How long'll that take?"

"Few minutes at least, sir. But motion trackers are picking up several hundred hostiles now gathering just outside."

"Well, now we know where the rest of them are," spoke up Felipe.

Rico shook his head, and then quickly strode up to where Caldwell was lying on the ground, being tended to by Dreyfus.

"I gave him a shot of medical TRXY-180 gel," spoke Private Dreyfus, the squad medic, "he'll be back on his feet in minutes, but I think he's outta commission for now."

"No ... I'm ... fine, Sarge." sputtered Caldwell, "as ... long as I can ... still hold gun!"

"No, you're not," replied Rico, "Dreyfus, stay with Caldwell; we'll lead the way, but you'll need to stay close behind us." He then turned away to make an emergency call. "This is Fireteam Beta, calling mission control! Do you copy?"

"Loud and clear!" replied the voice of Inspector Steve Lynn, "what's your status?"

"Sir!" replied Rico urgently, "hostiles have been alerted to our presence. Caldwell's injured, but can walk. Requesting permission to abort. Over."

"Negative, Sergeant," came Lynn's reply over the com, "we're in too deep to pull back now. Keep pushing forward up the tower, and I'll have the Falcon come in to provide air support. Over."

Caldwell scowled. "Sir ... with all due respect ... is the Inspector ... outta his fucking mind?!"

"Private, you might wanna make sure my cousin wasn't hearing that," remarked Kyra.

"The inspector might actually have a point," admitted Adamsen, "doors'll take a few minutes to open up, and there's a few thousand of these critters crawling about out there. Only way outta here is up."

"Shit," sighed Rico, "well, you heard him, team. Whether the roof's the best point for extraction or not, that's where our objective is. Antigo! Lynn! Make sure those doors are bolted from the inside as well, I don't want nuthin' following us from behind. Alright, let's move!"

* * *

 _ **Several minutes later...  
**_  
After fighting their way up dozens of flights of stairs, the team finally emerged from the top of the tower. Kyra looked around. It was a pretty flat and featureless top, a wide open space surrounded by a ring of stone pillars, spires, and gargoyles that shown black against the night sky. Dark clouds were now beginning to gather around them, the wind had picked up, and a mist was steadily closing in on Isengard.

"What the hell?" muttered Felipe, "it was clear when we first entered the tower!"

"And where's the air support?" shouted Kyra.

"Looks like we're on this alone," grumbled Rico, "there! Target in sight, eleven o'clock!" Sure enough, the motion trackers warned them of a tall robed figure approaching through the mist.

"I thought there were supposed to be two," remarked Adamsen.

"We'll worry about the other one later, just OPEN FIRE!"

At once, all four of the Marines opened fire with their net-guns, sending their nets and attached cables flying through the air at the target. But the figure moved with an agility and a seeming ability to anticipate their moves that was far what they had expected of the kind of elderly bearded man that one usually associated with the word "wizard". Kyra herself was frustrated when her net gun missed and instead struck one of the stone spires on the other side of the tower. She quickly ejected the spent net-and-cable from her gun, pulled a fresh spool from her belt, and loaded into the breach of the net launcher.

Felipe had other ideas, firing a high-powered sonic blast from his Banshee. The sound wave struck the wizard, and for a second, it seemed to work. The figure froze from the sensory shockwave it had just suffered, but it was still on its feet.

"Hit 'im again!" commanded the Sarge.

"¡Yeah! ¡Take that, _cabron!_ " taunted Felipe as he strode forward, unflinchingly, firing another blast of ultrasound at the wizard.

The wizard, however, seemed to have other ideas. It still seemed taken aback from the dual shockwave the Banshee had wrought upon its ears, but it was still on its feet, and had recovered enough to wield its staff and unleash a bolt of bright red crackling sparks at Felipe.

But Felipe was able to dodge the wizard's spell just in time; he had no idea what they did, and had no intention of finding out. The dazzling sparks missed him, and instead flew on and struck the stone pillar behind him. There was an explosion of stone and pieces of masonry, and a great crumbling sound as the pillar dislodged and began to fall ...

It was then that Kyra noticed that the falling pillar was enmeshed in one of the Marines' nets. And that net was still attached to its cable. And that cable was one of several that now lay sprawled across the roof of Isengard...

The wizard had retreated to the other side of the tower, and the Marines were chasing after him, throwing everything they had at him. And then, all of a sudden, Felipe cried out in surprise and terror as his legs were yanked out from under him, and he fell to the floor. It was then that Kyra realized just what was going on. The wizard, cunning fucker, had lured Felipe right to where his leg would get tangled in the discarded net cables laying on the floor. And now, as the stone pillar plunged off the top of the tower, it dragged poor Felipe right after it...

"PHIL!" shouted Kyra as she ran towards him as fast as her legs could carry her.

Too late.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" screamed Felipe over the radio as he was pulled right over the edge and went plummeting down off the top of the tower, some 500 feet down to his death...

"KYRA, LOOK OUT!" shouted Private Adamsen next to her as he threw himself at her, throwing her out of the way just as another stream of red sparks came issuing forth from the wizard's staff. The spell just missed the two of them, striking the next stone pillar next to them, and causing an explosion of smoke and steam and pieces of broken masonry. It was not a very powerful explosion, but it was enough to unbalance the two of them, and send them right over the edge, following right after Private Felipe.

Kyra and Adamsen were in free fall, plummeting through the air, the ground below rushing up to them. Thinking quickly, she held up her net-gun, and fired.

The grappling net shot back up through the air and caught onto one of the stone gargoyles above them. The cable pulled taut, and Kyra, gripping her net-gun for dear life in her right hand, spun around in mid-air and held out her left hand to Private Adamsen. He reached back for her hand. For a split second, they looked at each other, and Kyra was sure she could see the mix of fear and determination in Adamsen's eyes, even through the thick visor he was wearing. Their hands met, and Kyra grasped onto Adamsen tightly.

But not tightly enough. His hand slipped right through her fingers. And Kyra was left dangling there, and could only watched on in complete horror and utter helplessness as Private Jan Adamsen plunged to the ground below.


	18. The Fallout & Battle Report 3

**_Chapter 18: The Fallout_**

 **Main Command Center  
Colony of Beautiful Horizon  
Western Coast of "Enedwaith"  
Continent of "Middle Earth", Planet EE-L5  
**  
"What. The. FUCK. Just. Happened?" fumed the holographic form of Steve Lynn. At that moment, he was all the way over at the colony over on EE-L4, standing next to that colony's assistant director, Daniel Zimmerman. In retrospect, Angela figured, perhaps trying to micro-manage a highly sensitive military operation from another planet away was a pretty bad idea...

"Why the fuck are you blaming us?" shouted Teller back, equally furious, "you're the one who dropped the ball here!"

"This whole affair was YOUR idea!" fumed Steven.

"Uh, guys? Can we please calm down here..." offered Daniel.

"Which is perhaps why you should have kept your big nose out of our business and let VIDI and the Mercs handle this!" seethed Teller.

"Ah yes, just what we need, another Alpha Centauri Incident," accused Steve. "But that aside, the natives were ready for us. This was an ambush cleverly prepared and planned ahead of time. Someone told this wizard fellow we were coming!"

"Are you seriously suggesting that we sabotaged a UN operation that was to our benefit?" spat Teller.

"It would certainly explain a lot of things," replied Steve, coldly.

"THAT'S ENOUGH, BOTH OF YOU!" shouted Angela, who had had it up to here with the two of them. Teller and Lynn were surprised. She continued: "do you honestly hear yourselves right now? Squabbling like little kids?" She turned to face Teller first: "sir, with all due respect, given our unfortunate history, Inspector Lynn has every reason to treat our motivations with suspicion!" She then turned to face Lynn: "and you? I'm no expert in military affairs, but this whole affair seems like one horrendously mismanaged one to me! I told you that you should've either stayed here on L5, or else at least delegated command to someone else!"

"I have a very busy schedule," snapped Steve, "and perhaps I'm mistaken here, Ms. Cheong, but wasn't it _you_ who convinced me to go along with this whole wild goose chase?!"

"I told you to do your job and protect Gondor!" replied Angela, curtly, "I never told you to go pick fights with wizards, and fuck it up!"

Steve could only glare at her, speechless, but the rage in his eyes came across clear as day, even in holographic form. And then at last, he sighed, and lit up a cigarette. "FUCK! I'm gonna lose my job for this. One Marine dead, two injured, one of them critically..."

"Maybe not," said Angela, "we, The Company™ ... we could take full responsibility for this disaster."

"Uh... what?" asked Teller.

"Go on," insisted Steve.

"What I'm suggesting is simple," continued Angela, "The Company™ will claim full responsibility for having requested, organized, planned, and overseen this entire operation. We'll have to prepare compensations for the family of Private Antigo, as well as for the recovery of Privates Caldwell and Adamsen. And we'll have to put up with the other negative consequences too. But it will spare you your job, Mr. Lynn. Of course, we would ask for something in return."

Steve was silent as he thought this over. "I'm gonna ... have to think this over." His holographic form disappeared as he stood up and left the room.

"Well," muttered Daniel Zimmerman once the UN Inspector was gone, "that coulda gone a lot better ... but it also could've gone a lot worse too. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Steve here is almost inclined to take us up on our offer."

"Angela," remarked Teller, "I dunno what the fuck I'd do without you."

"Just trying to make the best we can out of this shitty situation, sir," replied Angela. "If The Board agrees to it, we'll of course be, ahem, 'subject to discipline' for our part in this failure and pay a couple fines to the UN, but at least Lynn gets to keep his job, and we get a few favors from him in return. And if he reneges on the deal, we can always threaten to go to the UN High Command with the real details of the matter."

"Still," mumbled Teller, "I'd rather have two wizards in our custody and zero Marines dead on our account. Shit. Ugh. So... Daniel? How's things over on L4?"

"Okay, more or less," replied Daniel, "Fred's still down in KL with VENI, but we've also had an incident here. Last night, an assassin tried to murder Ned Stark's son – Brandon, the one we're sending over to the _Horizonte_ to get medical care? It's a good thing the night watchman on duty put a stop to this. You know, but sheer coincidence, he just so happened to be Bran's half-brother Jon."

"God, your world too?" sighed Teller, "look, I need you guys to be on guard. I dunno, but something's not right ever since we set foot in this damn star system."

* * *

 **Darth Saruman (II)**

"What news have you to report?" boomed the voice of Saruman of Many Colors as he strode about the grounds of Isengard, surveying the damage of last night's battle.

"Mastah!" replied Lurtz, bowing his head partly in fear and in reverence, "no sign o' the Grey Wizahd. 'E just disappeahed!"

 _Curses_ , he thought to himself. Whilst the battle had raged on, Gandalf had somehow managed to make good on his escape whilst the Sky-People had commanded the better part of his attention. Gandalf was a fool for thinking he could fight back against the forces of Sauron, but that did not mean he was not a cunning one at that.

But at the very least, however, the invaders had been repulsed. It had come at heavy cost, yes, but nothing too significant compared to the main host of Uruk-Hai that he was now assembling, and at least now he knew that these foreigners, for all of their devices and contraptions, were still mortal men, and if they could bleed, they could be killed.

That, and Saruman was also confident that these strangers would not hold the advantage indefinitely...

"Mastah!" growled another of the Uruk captains, one by the name of Ugluk, as he strode up to Saruman. "One o' them humies dropped this last noit." He bowed, and dropped something onto the floor at Saruman's feet; it struck with a loud CLANG.

The formerly-White Wizard took a good long look at the device. It was a boxlike weapon, crafted of black polished metal, with a long round barrel protruding from it. Yes, it was one of the "fire-arms" of the Sky-People. Saruman picked up the weapon in both hands and carefully inspected it. Yes, this would do. Isengard might not be able to replicate this device completely – that much he knew was far beyond the capacities of even his finest smiths. But ... perhaps that would not be necessary. No, even a very rough replica, and copied a hundred times over – yes, now that would be something to give even the Rohirrim to the east pause for doubt.

Saruman also quietly reminded himself to track down that one Sky-Person who had warned him of the impending attack, as such a person may yet continue to make a useful ally in future...

* * *

 **Medical Ward  
Colony of Beautiful Horizon  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5  
**  
Mk.7 Ballistics Armor could protect against many things. But a 500-foot fall was not one of them. The two broken bodies now laid out in the next room was a tragic reminder of that fact. That she felt directly responsible for both of them did not help Corporal Kyra Lynn one bit at all.

Her comlink began to ring. She looked at it, and saw the Steve's number calling. She ignored it, too upset and furious to even want anything to do with him. What the fuck did he want anyway? To tell her off for letting go of Adamsen? To check up on her out of genuine concern for her? To beg for her forgiveness, for just how royally he had screwed this whole damn thing up? She neither knew nor cared.

"Private Antigo is gone," muttered Dr. Jay Sadhwani, the colony's doctor, as he emerged from the emergency room where Antigo and Adamsen were being kept. He was shaking his head. "No, the way he landed ... and the extra weight he was carrying ... he was gone the split second he hit. I'm sorry, ma'am. If ... if it's any consolation, it would have been quick and painless."

"Can we save Jan?" she replied, slowly and cautiously hopeful.

"Mr. Adamsen is going to be out of comission for a while," sighed Dr. Sadhwani. He paused. "But we can rebuild him. We have the technology. Just not here."

* * *

 **From: REDACTED  
To: REDACTED  
Re: Important: Mission Failure  
Date: REDACTED**

Dear Sir;

It it with great regret that I inform you that we have suffered our first major reversal. At the very least, since UNASEC took charge of this operation, the majority of the cost of this failure falls square upon their shoulders. However, the fact remains that the natives were able to get the drop on us this time, and I can tell you that it does not feel good at all. It feels bad enough that one of our Marines has been KIA in the scuffle, and two others seriously injured (to say nothing of the serious manpower shortage issue this raises for us).

The details will be in my attached report, but I'll go over the bare basics: we attacked Isengard in the hopes of capturing two wizards, but they were somehow ready for us. They knew we were coming, and I don't know if this is because one of these wizards was able to learn of our intentions through some previously-unknown thaumaturgical technique, or else because one of our own may have informed him of arrival. Either possibility is an equally disturbing one, but one that must be followed up and investigated.

Inspector Lynn may face serious repercussions for his part in this failure. However, Dir. Teller and Cheong have proposed that they may be willing to take responsibility in place of Lynn and thus spare him his career if he is willing to cooperate with some of our requests.

We will keep you updated of any changes or new information that avails itself, but for now, this preliminary report should contain all of the relevant details.

Best regards,  
[REDACTED]

* * *

 **FOR YOUR EYES ONLY  
Status: CLASSIFIED, Level-5  
By: REDACTED  
Filed on: REDACTED**

 **AFTER-ACTION REPORT:**  
 **The Raid On Isengard**

 **§1. BASIC OUTLINE  
**  
 **Date** : Day 41 After Arrival  
 **Location** : Fortress designated "Isengard", Misty Mountains Region of Main Continent  
 **Participants** :  
+UNCDF  
+Isengard  
 **Commanders** :  
+Insp. Stephen Lynn*; Sgt. Esteban Rico  
+Saruman The White  
 **Outcome** : UNCDF Failure; unable to acquire either asset.

 _ ***Note:** in order to distinguish between UN Inspector Stephen Lynn and his cousin, UN Colonial Marine Corporal Kyra Lynn, we will be referring to them as "Insp. Lynn" and "Cpl. Lynn", respectively, from henceforth.  
_  
 **§2. ORDER OF BATTLE:  
**  
+ _ **Isengard**_ : approx. several thousand "Uruk-Hai"  
+ _ **UNCDF**_ : 6 Colonial Marines; 1 Falcon Dropship

 **§3. PRELUDE:  
**  
We first observed the site known locally as "Isengard" shortly after our arrival on Planet EE-L5, but declined to initiate First Contact with these natives after we learnt that they may be among those vassals aligned with the Mordor Faction, and indeed, satellite observations confirmed this to be the case.

However, our satellites also observed the presence of two elderly humanoid figures who resemble classic fantasy wizards, and whose descriptions seem to fit those given in the Minas Tirith archives describing "Istari", which are supposed to be highly thaumically-potent individuals with characteristics approaching those of demi-gods. We had no way of verifying this information, but concluded all the same that the capture of these two specimens would greatly aid in our research efforts.

Initially, we were planning to send VIDI and the Arcturus Legion mercenaries in what we hoped would be a repeat of our "Diplomatic Incident" at Morannon. However, Inspector S. Lynn somehow found out both about our operation and of the identities of our mercenaries, and confronted Dir. Teller over this. However, Lynn was convinced to continue the operation himself, albeit under UNASEC jurisdiction rather than that of The Company™. We believe that Mr. Lynn may be reacting at least somewhat in response to pressure to do something that will look good on the UN's part, or rather, on _his_ part, especially in light of the recent success that his fellow UN representatives (and possible rivals) Amb. Alpers and Capt. Müller seem to be enjoying over on Planet EE-L0.

Whatever his motivations, however, Insp. Lynn still somehow decided that it was a good idea to leave EE-L5 and head over to EE-L4 (for a pre-scheduled business trip to Autumn's Frontier), and felt that he could continue to micro-manage the whole affair from quite literally another planet away. We cannot help but feel that Mr. Lynn's bizarre decision would only further negatively impact his decision-making.

 **§4. COURSE OF BATTLE:  
**  
For some reason, Inspector Lynn insisted on a stealth mission, rather than an all-out assault with the Marines charging in guns-blazing. A small 6-man fire-team to sneak into the fortress and extract the two wizards, consisting of: Sgt. E. Rico, Cpl. K. Lynn, Pvt. J. Caldwell, Pvt. J. Adamsen, Pvt. F. Antigo, and Pvt. A. Dreyfus. The Marines were equipped mainly with non-lethals, including net guns, flashbangs, tranquilizers, taser-rifles, and a "Banshee"-type acoustic device. However, they were also equipped with some live rounds as well.

The Marines were deployed several miles from the target zone by the Falcon, and proceeded the rest of the way on foot. They scaled the outer wall using grappling cables, rappelled down the other side, and continued with no major incident up until they reached the tower itself. It was once they arrived there that we first found out that Saruman must have been anticipating our arrival, for the entrance hall of the tower had been set up as an ambush. No sooner had the Marines arrived, when the doors were slammed shut from the outside and locked, and our Marines were attacked by several dozen hostiles who had been lying in wait for them. In fact, not only did these hostiles know that our Marines were coming, but they had also taken steps to mitigate some of our technological advantages.

First, these hostiles had prepared several ballistae, which possess considerably greater firepower than humble arrows. A ballista bolt has more kinetic energy than a single 7.62mm bullet, and while it may not penetrate our Mk. 7 Ballistics Armor, it will certainly hit with sufficient force to shatter bone if a direct hint can be attained. Such a direct hit was achieved against Pvt. Caldwell, breaking his leg. Fortunately, the rest of the ballista teams missed, as ballistae are large, cumbersome weapons that are difficult to use to target (relatively) small and fast-moving targets.

Second, they were able to ambush our Marines by evading both their motion-trackers and their thermal vision. Motion-trackers are easy enough to evade, simply by holding still - however, this implies that these hostiles knew that they had to stand still. As for thermal vision, we are as yet trying to figure out how these life-forms, who are endothermic humanoids just like _Homo sapiens_ , would have been able to avoid our sensors for so long. We propose two theories: either Saruman himself used some type of thaumaturgy to conceal these creatures' body heat, or he may have also have simply used thick wooden boards to try to conceal these life-forms - not possible indefinitely, but just long enough to spring the trap. Lighting additional fires would have helped better conceal the heat given off by these creatures.

Whatever the case, the Isengard forces were able to successfully lure our Marines into a trap and spring it. Pvt. Caldwell was injured in the firefight, but the rest of the Marines were able to rally and fight back. At this point, Sgt. Rico requested permission to abort mission, but was ordered by Insp. Lynn to press on - we cannot at this moment determine whether Lynn's motivation was determined more by sheer incompetence, sheer overconfidence, complete inability to grasp just what was the situation on the ground, or a genuine recognition that the situation on the ground was such that the roof was still the best chance for evacuation.

Whatever the case, Sgt. Rico reluctantly complied with Insp. Lynn's orders, and assigned Pvt. Dreyfus to assist Pvt. Caldwell, and then pressed forward with the three remaining Marines. By the time they reached the top of Isengard, the weather had changed for some inexplicable (and possibly thaumic-induced) reasons, and one of the two wizards, the one designated "Gandalf", had disappeared (possibly exploiting the distraction provided by our Marines as a means of escape).

Only the other wizard, the one designated "Saruman", was still left to face off against our troops. Sgt. Rico's squad attempted to suppress Mr. Saruman with the various non-lethals at their disposal, but the wizard demonstrated a skill in agility, clairvoyance, and thaumaturgical skill that enabled him to dodge our attacks and then fight back. Pvt. Antigo was killed when his leg got tangled in one of the nets discarded from earlier; the net had missed its target and had instead struck one of the ornate stone pillars that adorns the top of the tower. When the stone was dislodged by a thaumic-based attack by Saruman, Pvt. Antigo was dragged off the tower and down to his death below.

Similarly, another thaumic-based attack by Saruman led to Cpl. Lynn and Pvt. Adamsen getting thrown off the top of the tower. Although Lynn was able to deploy her grappling net gun, which she fortunately had just loaded with a fresh shot moments prior, Adamsen was unable to save himself. He was able to survive, though barely and in critical condition, because of several different factors from Antigo (such as angle, speed, and positioning).

At long last, the Falcon shuttle finally arrived to provide air support and recover the team, but by then the mission was finally declared a failure and aborted. All five of the surviving Marines were recovered, as was the body of Pvt. Antigo, in line with the Marines' tradition of "no man left behind".

 **§5. CASUALTIES:  
**  
+ _ **Isengard**_ : approx. 120 KIA or WIA; less than 4% losses  
+ _ **UNCDF**_ : 1 KIA, 2 WIA; 50% losses

 **§6. AFTERMATH:  
**  
We are trying our best at the moment to implement damage control and try to salvage what we can out of a pretty unpleasant situation. One Marine is dead and two others wounded. Aside from the emotional distress this will cause to all of our personnel, UN and Company™ alike, this also represents a blow to our current manpower reserves of only two squads of Colonial Marines.

Insp. Lynn can of course be expected to face serious repercussions for his disastrous mismanagement of the whole affair. Dir. Teller and Asst-Dir. Cheong have offered to take responsibility for this disaster (which, if Insp. Lynn does take them up on, would consist of doctoring several documents that would show that Insp. Lynn had "indeed" given Dir. Teller and Cheong the authority to coordinate the mission during his absence on Planet EE-L4). Taking this responsibility upon us would of course mean that we would have to pay compensations for the wounded and dead, as well as put up with any other negative consequences, but it would mean that we *may* have a grateful UN Inspector on our side.

We are greatly disturbed by this implication that Saruman was well prepared for the Marines' arrival, which suggests one of two equally damning possibilities: (1) Saruman possesses some form of thaumaturgical-based means of finding out about our attack beforehand, and if he does, then there is no telling what else he has learnt about us. (2) alternatively, Saruman was warned of our impending operation from a mole in our midsts - either one of the local helpers we have enlisted from Gondor, or (worse) one of our own personnel turned traitor. Either possibility is an unpleasant one that will require that we exercise greater caution, whether in our handling of highly thaumically potent life-forms, or in the handling of our own internal security affairs.

As a side-note, during this incident, we encountered a new variation of the Orc species ( _Orcus servilis_ ) that seems to combine elements of _O. servilis_ with that of _H. sapiens_. The product of thaumically-induced genetic manipulation, for sure, however, this also suggests that Saruman may be running a captive breeding program on sapient life forms being held against their will...

 ** _This report was prepared by [NAMES REDACTED] on [DATE REDACTED]. The information and opinions expressed within are accurate to the fullest extent of these individuals' knowledge. All information contained within this report is to be considered CLASSIFIED; under no circumstances are any of the information above to be made public unless first reviewed by our Censorship Board._**

* * *

 _ **Footnotes** : special thanks in this chapter goes to: **dissatisfieduser** for any and all suggestions surrounding the original character of Pvt. Adamsen, and **Coalition** , for coming up with ways that a primitive army could attempt to evade modern detection techniques using mundane tech._


	19. Intermission: Earth 1

_**Foreword** : Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to this story's readers. In a similar spirit to the "Earth Intermissions" featured back in Book1, we return to Earth once more to take a look at what's going on in the wider universe this story is taking place. Also be sure to check out our one-shot spin-off story "THE FLYING NORTHMAN: An Event Horizon Christmas Special" (which admittedly doesn't actually have anything to do with Christmas except for someone getting a very special gift). _

* * *

**The Company™ Global Headquarters  
Toronto, State Of Ontario (ON)  
United States Of America, Planet Earth  
Nov 17, 2154 C.E.**

The sun was shining brightly through the huge glass windows on this cold and cloudy November morning, illuminating the room that held the immense table where at this moment sat some 200 people. Director Dominic Kobori, representing The Company™'s subsidiary SEAGA Games & Entertainment™, and certainly one of the younger and fresher faces at the table, shifted uncomfortably in his leather chair, and tugged slightly at the tie he was wearing. This was the first time he had ever received the great honor of representing his division at this meeting, though at that moment, he realized it was less an honor, and more an onerous burden.

In spite of the sunlight filtering through the windows, the far end of the table seemed shrouded in darkness, almost as if the lone figure seated there, its face almost entirely concealed in shadow except for its piercing eyes, were consuming the very light around it and emanating darkness around it with its mere presence. Dominic knew this was a deliberate optical illusion, of course, but it was pretty damn effective; the whole sight reminded him rather eerily of a giant spider sitting in the middle of her web of intrigue, waiting to lash at anything that passed too close.

When all 200 attendees had taken their seats, the figure shrouded in darkness promptly stood up and spoke, her voice reverberating about the entire chamber clearly and authoritatively: "this meeting of The Board has officially commenced." The CEO paused and sighed before continuing: "It is with deepest regret that I inform you all of the death of our Operative #824 Ryan Walcott while on assignment, who was killed in the early hours of this morning during one of our punitive raids against Islamic State holdouts on Mars. The exact details of this operation are as yet classified. However, we have informed Operative Walcott's family, and appropriate compensations are being prepared. For the last seven years that he has worked for The Company™, Ryan Walcott has served loyally and diligently in the name of our Office Of Sabotage & Other Special Operations (OSOSO). His exemplary services and charming personality will be missed. May he rest in peace."

"To Operative Ryan Walcott!" declared Number 2, the Chief Operations Officer, as he stood up and raised his glass.

"To Ryan Walcott!" echoed around the table as the rest of the Board as they followed Number 2's lead, standing up and raising a toast to a fallen brother-in-arms. It gave Dominic a small measure of comfort to see that behind that cold and impersonal face The Company™ was known for, there was at least some modicum of genuine camaraderie among its members.

The CEO paused before continuing: "I would like to kindly remind you all that this meeting of The Board is focused primarily on our ongoing colonization and scientific research efforts in the Epsilon Eridani System. However, before we commence at length as to the primary subject matter, we will first begin with the latest updates from each of our major sectors and operations. Number 9, if you would kindly lead?"

"Yes, Number 1," began Number 9, the Chief Statistical Officer, as he stood up and bowed respectfully towards The CEO before continuing, "we will have our report on the 2154 United States Senate and Congressional Elections ready by next week's meeting of The Board. But based on our current projections, we are already speculating with great certainty that Senator Frank Spacey (Democratic-Republican Party, New York) will be the favored frontrunner for the 2156 U.S. Presidential Race, barring some major scandal between now and then."

" _Every_ politician these days is involved in one scandal or another," replied The CEO, curtly, "the trick lays in convincing the voter that your candidate's scandals matter less towards his or her qualifications for the job than those of their rival. Still, this development is hardly surprising. Thank you, Number 9, please be seated. Now, Number 12, what have you to report?"

"Number 1, there are no significant changes since our last meeting on the matter," replied Director Benedict Chau, Grand Sector Overseer for The Company™'s Asia-Pacific Sector. "Our negotiations with ChinaRail for the expansion of VacTrain™ services into Mainland China will commence on January 8th of the next year as previously agreed."

"If the deal goes through, how quickly can we commence regular services?" spoke up Number 3, the Chief Financial Officer.

"Unfortunately, ChinaRail's existing infrastructure is not up to our standards," replied Mr. Chau, honestly, "even if the deal goes through, and even with Guanlong's support, we would need at least three to four years to bring the majority of China's hyper-maglev lines up to VacTrain™ specifications. It would almost be faster and less expensive to just build our own separate network, even with real estate at a premium."

The CEO spoke: "as I have iterated before, Number 12, that is an acceptable cost for the revenues we would otherwise be expected to earn by exploiting one of the largest markets on Earth. Number 27, what have you to report?"

"Number 1, our shutdown and cleanup of the South Cotabato Mine on Mindanao are progressing as planned," replied Director Michael "Tim" Florentino of the Ayala-Aboitiz-Metro Corporation, one of The Company™'s subsidiaries based in the Philippines, "likewise, we are preparing to commence shutdown, cleanup, and ecological reclamation operations at our two Kalimantan mines on Borneo next month. We are already in the midst of relocating much of our equipment and facilities to our New Batavia mine on Mars. Otherwise, mineral yields and operating costs continue to fall well within our projections. No significant changes to report since last week."

"Thank you Number 27. Number 14?"

"No changes since last week," spoke up Directress Yasmin Hosseini, Sector Overseer of The Company™'s Middle East Sector, "the Saudi Royal Family are still refusing to issue a formal apology for the treatment our women scientists received at that energy conference in Riyadh last month."

"This is the 22nd century, not the 12th," growled The CEO, "perhaps it is time we impress this lesson upon that Medieval regime. We are The Company™, and we will not tolerate insults to our fellow brothers and sisters, no matter what ideology and beliefs these insults are alleged to be based upon."

"Perhaps if an unfortunate accident were to befall the king's prized Bentley collection, it would be an adequate warning..." suggested Number 7, Director Of Sabotage & Special Operations, "I agree that we cannot allow these bullies to think they can get away with it. The lowest-ranking Company™ employee is still a higher and more valuable life form than any king or prince or ruler of some foreign country!"

"I believe any further talk of a potential destabilization of a sovereign government here on Earth (and its replacement with a more humane and Company™-friendly alternative) is a topic of conversation best reserved for a future meeting," interjected The CEO, "make no mistake, our retaliation will be severe, but for now, I would prefer that we first finish up with these reports. Number 11, what news to report?"

"Our liaison at Galaxiewerke confirms that they may be able to develop a starship to our specifications," reported Director Antony Gazano, Acting Deputy Overseer of Western Europe Sector, "a 10,000-seater, if I am not mistaken?"

"For the standard model, correct," replied the Chief Operations Officer, "and up to 50,000 if we sacrifice cargo capacity for additional cryogenic pods and life support. Even if not for our Epsilon Eridani holdings, such a vessel will certainly be put to good use for our other colonial holdings."

"Yes, Number 2," replied Director Gazano, consulting his notes on his HoloTablet, "those are the specifications I was given. I was also told that such a vessel could be constructed on the same drydock facilities they are using for the _UNSV Tyrannosaurus Rex_ , once that's completed next year."

"Thank you Number 11," spoke The CEO, "Number 21?"

"No significant changes to report since last week," replied Michelle Velasquez, Exec. Director of the Retail Division. "As expected, we are experiencing a small slump in consumer spending now that the Halloween Holiday Season is over, but we expect we will fully bounce back once the Christmas Holiday Shopping Season commences. Other than that, our new _MegaCompanyWorld_ ™ department store and theme park in the Alpha Centauri System is still scheduled for its grand opening next week. We are anticipating a 50% increase in retail revenues in that sector over the same quarter last year, especially now that we are working harder than ever to help integrate the native Alpha Centaurians into the modern galactic economy, and all the innumerable wonders that Earth has to offer to them."

"If I may add, Number 1," spoke up Number 32, Mr. R. H. Gimbel of The Company™'s Macy's™ subsidiary, "we are also experiencing the annual Post-Halloween, Pre-Christmas slump in retail revenues. Our Holiday Specials sales will officially kick off nationwide the moment our upcoming annual Macy's Thanksgiving Parade™ ends right in front of our New York flagship store."

"I presume you have no issues with your new Santa Claus?" asked The CEO, "we would rather not repeat last year's debacle if possible."

"Nothing major," replied Mr. Gimbel, confidently, "the foolish old oaf still thinks he really is Santa Claus, but he does a damn fine job at it, so that's all that matters. He's certainly better than last year's one."

"I hope so for your sake," replied Number 2, "tradition or not, if Mr. Kringle can not perform at his duties, we will have no choice but to replace 'Santa Claus' with a robotic substitute next year; they are generally far more reliable and less prone to drunkenness on the job. Number 19?"

"Number 2," spoke up Donovan Schultz, Executive Director of The Company™'s Starbucks subsidiary, as he stood up, "I regret to inform you that weekly sales are down nearly 8% from this same period last year. We believe it's because of those hate groups who are complaining about our new solid red Christmas-themed coffee cups. They think it's ... 'un-Christmasy'. Some of them are even actively boycotting us and trying to sway our more loyal consumer base towards coffee chains with proper 'Christmasy' cups."

"Let me make sure I am understanding this correctly," said The CEO, "there are starving children on Mars, and young women being abused in the Middle East ... and people are worried about a _coffee cup?_ "

"That would appear to be the case," added Number 6, the Chief Public Relations Officer, as he consulted his HoloTablet, "yes, there's even now a hashtag about it floating about on the Spacebook."

"Lovely. I suppose I should take it to be a sign of economic prosperity that people are able to find the time and effort to be concerned by a coffee cup of all things," chided Number 3, "I presume that our dear rivals NovaCorp are behind it all?"

"Possibly," replied Mr. Schultz, "we noticed that NovaCorp's NovaJava chain's revenue numbers are up 6% this week and they, funnily enough, do have a 'Christmasy cup', even though they pretty much serve the exact same shitty overpriced coffee as we do."

"Typical," sneered Number 7, "well, perhaps if several patrons of NovaJava were to find something unpleasant in their morning frappe, they may reconsider their loyalties. I'll have the Sabotage Office look into it."

"It would take us minimal effort to simply redesign our cups to be more 'Christmasy'," suggested Number 3.

"It would also be a sign of weakness on our part," replied The CEO, "if we change the design now, we are essentially telling NovaCorp that they have won. No, sometimes we must be _consistent_ , and stand firmly on a position we have taken, and not fold in to some corporate bullying. I personally see no problem with our current designs, and if others do, then I would rather that our response to these individuals take a more proactive and _punitive_ nature. Now ... Number 56, what have you to report?"

Dominic Kobori nearly forgot that 56 had been the number he had been temporarily assigned for this meeting. Luckily, he had at least rehearsed what he needed to say beforehand. "Number 1," he began, respectfully, "on behalf of SEAGA Games & Entertainment™, I am happy to report that our revenue numbers are up 7% over this same period last year. This is in the face of continuing criticisms from many of our customers and fan circles over some of the recent controversies surrounding our elimination of the split-screen option for multiplayer for several of our gaming systems and ..."

"Bah! These basement-dwellers can whine all they want and they will still buy our games," sneered Number 8, Director Domenech Belleville, "especially when they have no choice once our servers stop supporting the current version. Let the complainers complain!"

"Number 8, would you kindly let Number 56 speak?" spoke The CEO, calmly. That shut up Mr. Belleville immediately. The CEO glared momentarily at him, and then turned back to face Kobori. "Please go on, Number 56."

"Uh ... yes, Number 1," he replied, "yes, we are considering making several of our planned DLC packets free for pre-order customers ... we felt, uh, that this would help mitigate some of the outrage some of our consumer base feel towards our recent spate of games many feel are 'half-complete' because we put so much of the essential material for sale as a separate DLC."

"And I hope you remembered to take account of how much revenue we could lose in the process?" inquired Mr. Belleville, narrowing his eyes.

"We ... felt that the goodwill we would earn from at least a few of our customers would more than compensate for the loss of potential profits," replied Kobori, trying to project an air of confidence, but quietly panicking at the potential loss of face he could suffer in front of the rest of The Board.

"That is ... a sound strategy, Number 56," spoke up The CEO, "I trust you will have a report on the success or not of this initiative by our next Board meeting focusing on our interactive entertainments divisions."

"Uh, yes! We will!" replied Kobori, feeling relieved. More rewarding though, he had to admit, was the look of the scowl on Mr. Belleville's face. Now that was very much worth it...

"Thank you, Number 56," said The CEO, "now, if I am not mistaken, I have also been informed that your division is developing a new toy based on these recent photos from Epsilon Eridani that were made public?"

"Yes, Number 1," replied Kobori, "your... uh, Fred's ... uh, ahem, _Colonial Director Frederick Kovacs'_ photograph of that, uh, 'Hand Of The King' is trending very well across the social media. Some of us in the Entertainment Division had the idea of developing a life-sized replica of that 'Iron Throne' (is that what it's called?), but made in plastic of course, that we could sell to kids this Christmas, seeing as how the EE System is all the rage these days."

"Can we sell the sword too?" inquired Number 3, "sold separately of course!"

"Uh, yes, of course," replied Kobori, "I don't see the problem... but yes, this was an idea we had brain-stormed, along with the line of 'Epsilon Eridani Bobble-Heads' and 'Emperor Karl Franz Riding On Deathclaw' action-figures (batteries not included) that we're already developing, which we hope the first batch thereof will be ready for distribution by Thanksgiving."

"Very well, Number 56," spoke The CEO before turning to address the table at large: "on that note, ladies and gentlemen, I think we should segway to the main purpose of today's meeting. Number 42, would you kindly lead the discussion? We have much to discuss..."

 ** _To be continued..._**


	20. The Council Of Elrond

_**Foreword** : a warning to readers, the first part of this chapter is NON-CANON within this story, as it is meant to be a bit of a funny omake (although this story has always been meant to be light-hearted). Read on! _

* * *

**_Chapter 20: The Council Of Elrond_**

 **The Ringbearer (I)**

"Strangers from distant lands! Friends of old! You have been summoned here to answer the threat ... of Mordor!" began Elrond as he addressed all those assembled. He took a brief pause to look around at all the gathered folk, representing perhaps Middle Earth's final hope. He continued: "Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom." He then turned to look at Frodo: "Bring forth the Ring!"

Frodo Baggins glanced around at the rest of the people gathered here in Rivendell on this deceptively warm and bright autumn day that hid just how grave and bleak was the situation now facing them all. In addition to Elrond's own household and delegates of Rivendell, there were a party of other Elves too, from the Realm of Mirkwood, as well as a party of Dwarves. Off in the corner stood Strider, representing the Realms Of Men. And Frodo had the uncomfortable realization that at that moment, all of their attention was focused on him. He stepped forward, and placed the Ring upon the stone plinth in the center of the room.

For a moment, there was absolute silence.

And then, for another moment, there was even more absolute silence.

"So... do we have perhaps any delegates from the Kingdom Of Gondor present here today?" asked Elrond at last, looking about, "anyone? None at all? Very well, that simplifies things immensely. No, we do not intend to harness the Ring's might against its master. You have only one choice: the Ring must be destroyed!"

"Then what're we waitin' fer?" bawled one of the Dwarves as he stood up, strode over to the pedestal, and before anyone could say anything else, had already heaved his mighty axe into the air, and brought it crashing down onto the Ring.

There was a piercing scream and Frodo winced in pain, and when his senses returned to him, he saw the Dwarf lying on his back, stunned, his axe shattered like glass and the Ring perfectly intact, not even a scratch upon it.

"Son!" called out one of the other Dwarven delegates, alarmed, rushing to his fallen compatriot's side.

But the fallen Dwarf seemed to be alright, for now, as he pulled himself back to his feet, fuming. "That axe wasn't cheap..." he muttered.

Elrond merely shook his head at the Dwarf's folly. "The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft we here possess. The Ring was made in the Fires of Mt. Doom – only there can it be unmade! The Ring must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back in the fiery chasm from whence it came. And one of you must do this."

Another silence fell over the council as the delegates considered his words. And then at last, one of the Mirkwood Elves stood up and spoke: "If that indeed be the case... and it is a long and dangerous road to Mordor... then perhaps is it possible that we could request the Eagles Of Manwë for their assistance?" He turned to face Gandalf directly. "Are they or are they not supposed to be friends of yours? Is that not how you escaped the clutches of Isengard?"

Gandalf glared at him. Frodo knew from what Gandalf had told him about the night of his escape, and he also knew that he wished to keep the exact details of it out of this conversation, lest it have the impact of making these so-called "Sky-People" draw the greater part of the attention at this Council. The Grey Wizard had his reasons for distrusting these strangers and keeping them out of his affairs for now, and Frodo knew better than to question him. Instead, Gandalf simply and calmly replied: "The Eagles are free agents, a most proud and noble creature, and I scarcely doubt they would deign to reduce themselves to little more than Middle Earth's taxi service. To ask one for a casual lift is sure to result in many scratchings and clawings of great foot-long talons upon one's back."

"But we would not exactly be asking for such a favor lightly," insisted the Mirkwood Elf.

"Yes, and I am not entirely convinced either," spoke up Gloin, one of the other Dwarves, looking directly at Frodo, "do you remember me, Young Frodo? I was one of your uncle's companions! Surely you are familiar with that book Bilbo Baggins published of our quest to Erebor? He is here in Rivendell right now as we speak, is he not? And were you not there with us too, Gandalf, when the Eagles delivered us all from Goblin-town?"

"Yes, I remember, I was there too!" spoke up one of the Mirkwood delegates, a lady by the name of Tauriel, "and I remember that, later on, we had a whole great _flock_ of them come to our aid at the Battle Of The Five Armies!"

"What? I don't remember you anywhere in my uncle's book!" muttered Frodo under his breath, confused.

"Pssst," whispered Gandalf in Frodo's ear, "a word of advice, Young Baggins: do not speak of this in front of Lady Tauriel, or you will upset her further. Your uncle left out any mention of her because of, well, she... she fell in love with one of your uncle's travel companions, Kili, and... you can see where I am going with this."

" _Oh_..." whispered Frodo back, "ah... yeah... I can see now why uncle is avoiding this meeting today." Gandalf glumly agreed.

"Look, the point is this," continued Gloin, "the Eagles were willing to help us reclaim the Lonely Mountain! They rescued us from the hordes of the Goblin King, and then came again at the Battle Of Five Armies! Not that I seek to belittle in any way the trials and tribulations we faced then, but here, today, we are talking about what could potentially be the end of the world as we know it! The Eagles are as much part of this earth as we, surely they will lift a feather in destroying the Ring too if we came to them with all due respect and reverence?"

"I am not quite so certain as you," interjected someone else. "Eagles could be easily corrupted by the Ring's influence, and in any case, Sauron might have defenses against such an aerial assault, or perhaps some other flying creatures that the Ringwraiths will most probably be riding now that you de-horsed them with that flood you summoned at the Bruinen," he concluded, turning to address Arwen. The Elven lady standing in the corner said nothing, but beamed with pride.

"Uh, actually it was _I_ who sent the flood," corrected Elrond.

"Yeah, and it was _I_ who brought Frodo here," asserted Glorfindel, snidely. Arwen turned and glared at him.

"Wait, hang on just a minute!" bawled Gimli, addressing Glorfindel, "so 'twas you who brought Frodo here, aye?"

"That is correct," replied Glorfindel.

"So... are you corrupted in any way by the Ring?"

The ageless Elven Warrior visibly took insult at the Dwarf's disingenuous assertion, but answered all the same. "Foolish little dwarf, I have fought Sauron and the servants of Morgoth since time immemorial! I as much as anyone would know the taint of the Dark Lord, and no, neither I nor my brave steed carry such a mark, if you mean to ask of him too."

"So," concluded Gimli, turning to address the council at large, "we are worried here that the Ring can corrupt the Eagles of Manwë himself, but thus far, it has yet failed to corrupt either the horse that carried the Ringbearer, or the warrior who brought him here."

"The dwarf has a point!" added in Legolas, standing up, "and let us not forget that during the First Age, the Eagles regularly nested right in front of Morgoth's nose, and the Dark Lord seemed unable to do anything about it (and he seemed to command considerably more assets than Sauron does now, not that I am trying to belittle the current circumstances facing us in any way). And, of course, they helped Eärendil fight off the dragons as well."

"Here, here!" agreed Tauriel.

It was Strider who stood up and spoke next. "But wait! Even if we can get the Eagles to volunteer, and even if Manwë himself keeps them above Sauron's influence... still, are we certain that a direct and exposed approach to Mt. Doom from the sky is preferable to a longer and significantly slower but stealthy approach over land?"

"It could be a low-approach," suggested one of the other delegates, pulling out a map to show everyone else. "Here, look: we could send the Eagles flying low north of the Ered Lithui Mountains, which could keep them well concealed from Sauron's view. And then, they would have to navigate down this narrow valley here, which leads all the way up to the volcano's crater. It's a small target, no more than two meters across."

"Well that's no bigger than a Womp goblin!" chimed in Gimli.

"ENOUGH!" hollered Gandalf, pounding his staff into the stone floor with a loud _THUD_. That got everyone's attention at once. "No, we are most certainly NOT going to fly, you fools!" declared Gandalf, "immune to corruption or not, resilient against Fell Beasts and other evils of Mordor or not, carrying the benediction of Manwë himself or not... Eagles are and have always been a measure of absolute last resort, when all other hope is lost. So they were to us at Goblin-town and Five Armies, so shall they be now. We are not at the end of our strength, we are merely at the beginning. A great journey lies before us all. I intend to go on foot to Mordor the whole way! Who amongst you is with us?"

There was a long silence at first. And then, Strider strided forward and knelt, solemnly declaring: "if by my life or death I can protect you, I will! You have my sword!"

"I still believe our current circumstances are desperate enough to warrant use of the Eagles now, but regardless, you have my bow!" declared Legolas.

"And my axe!" bawled Gimli, stepping forward, holding up the proud shattered remains of his axe after his ill-fated attempt to destroy the Ring just minutes earlier. "Never mind, I brought a spare!"

"Mr. Frodo isn't going anywhere without us!" blurted out a familiar voice as the doors opened and in strode Sam, Pippin, and Merry. Frodo was delighted to see his true friends and companions joining in as well to support him in the difficult ordeal that lay ahead of them.

"Eight members..." murmured Elrond, "you shall need a _ninth!_ "

"Nine?" asked Frodo, confused, "is there any particular reason it needs to be nine? Is eight not good enough? Or could we take even more than nine if we so wanted?"

"Well, I thought nine would be ideal for poetic reasons," explained Elrond, "after all, there are nine Ringwraiths out there."

"That sounds to me like a good reason to take a tenth and maybe an eleventh and twelfth too," muttered Gimli under his breath, but no one heard him.

"Then I shall go!" declared Tauriel, boldly stepping forward to offer her services to the cause. "We are half the population, after all. Long ago, the women of Middle Earth learnt the hard way that even those who do not live by the sword may still die upon them; it is time that we too had a part in shaping the destiny of this world that we too share, and punish Mordor for their many crimes against women!"

"That sounds all jolly and well, but you already have another woman!" teased one of the Dwarves, pointing his axe at Legolas.

"What? Nonsense, I look nothing like a woman!" retorted Legolas, all the while casually twirling his long and perfect blond hair in his hands.

"Either way, I would rather be dead than see the Ring entrusted to another elf!"

"SILENCE!" commanded Elrond, "it has been decided!" He turned to face Tauriel. "Your point has been taken, Tauriel of Mirkwood. Go, take your place among them." The Elven lady bowed her head and strode over to join Frodo and his growing company. All the while, Frodo cast a glance at Arwen off in the corner, who was visibly disappointed not to have been chosen too to join in the quest. But she was Elrond's daughter, and Frodo could understand a father's concern for his children. Elrond, meanwhile, seemed content with his selection, and declared proudly: "henceforth, you will be known as... THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING!"

"Great!" smiled Merry, and then he frowned. "So... uh... where we goin'?"

"Pssst," whispered Frodo to Gandalf, "can we take Glorfindel too? I know not if he is indeed the same one who was at the Fall Of Gondolin, but he all the same, he is an incredible warrior, and you never know when having one experienced in Balrog-slaying may come in useful."

Gandalf, however, shook his head. "The nine have been chosen, it is written."

"Uh... okay," muttered Frodo, beginning to harbor second thoughts over the composition of his chosen party. He cast a side glance at his fellow Hobbits of the Shire. As near and dear to him as were Merry and Pippin... was it perhaps too late now to swap one of them out for Glorfindel?

* * *

And thus the Fellowship departed Rivendell, making their way across the vast and jaw-droppingly beautiful landscape, that many years from now, Frodo would be told repeatedly looked rather like something straight out of a "New Zealand tourism commercial", whatever that was.

Gandalf led the way, holding tightly onto his hat with one hand to make sure it didn't blow away in the wind. Right behind him marched Legolas, Son of Thranduil, his long and perfect golden hair billowing in the wind, fresh from a session with Rivendell's hair-stylist. Behind him marched Gimli, Son of Gloin, his replacement axe gleaming in the sunlight.

Then marched Frodo himself, the Ring secure around his neck – such a little thing and yet the fate of this world hung upon it, and Frodo knew they would suffer great fear and doubt yet on account of it. Samwise came up behind him, along with Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. After them came Strider, Aragorn Son of Arathorn, who was leading the company's two pack-horses, laden with all of their food and camping supplies.

And finally, bringing up the rear of the Fellowship, there came... the ninth member of the Fellowship, Tauriel, looking resplendent and yet deadly at the same time in her Silvan Elven robes, a bow and quiver over his shoulder and a look of determination on her face.

"I hope to Eru almighty we weren't wrong to bring _her_ along," muttered Pippin, casting a glance at the back of the company, "just wait 'til she hits her first 'time o' the month'."

Frodo gulped. Yes, he realized, it was going to be a very long journey indeed...

* * *

 **Boromir (IV)  
**  
Unbeknownst to the Ring-bearer, a Fellowship of a considerably different kind was taking shape some thousands of miles to the east...

"MEN OF GONDOR!" began _General_ Boromir as he strode out before the thousands of men-at-arms assembled before the gleaming white walls of Minas Tirith, "today begins a new chapter in the history of our glorious realm! Today, we begin the process of taking back what is rightfully ours, and sending out to Mordor and beyond a very clear message: that never again will the land of my people fall into enemy hands!"

A great roar of applause and raucous cheer rose from the multitude gathered below him. Boromir waited a moment for the clamor to quieten down, but in that time, he took a brief glance back at the towering citadel, where his father was most certainly watching him, feeling the fate of all the Kingdom falling upon his shoulders - he and Faramir both, but his brother was out right now, ranging out in Ithelien, and even then, he knew deep down that the Steward was placing far more of his dwindling faith in his first born... and in the new weapons...

He took a deep breath and continued: "mark my words: it will not be an easy path. Over these next few months, you will train and you will fight, and you will learn to use these new weapons that have been given most graciously unto us by the Sky-People." At that, he turned to indicate the dozens of boxes and wooden crates stacked behind him, which had been delivered over the last few days. Of course, they were there primarily for show; it would be at least a few weeks before the troops would be allowed to actually hold one of these deadly new so-called "rifles", as first, they would have to complete all of the basic drills.

The Sky-People had offered the assistance of one of their own to help oversee the training, but one man alone could not drill an entire army. Thus, it had been decided that this one sergeant of the Sky-People would first train Boromir himself and a small staff of men, who would then go on to serve as officers and sergeants to the rest of the troop...

"Some of you may not survive the many battles ahead of us," he continued, solemnly, "but take heart in the knowledge that this land that lays before us was once the jewel of our Kingdom, and so it shall be once more. Today, we are creating... THE FIRST ARMY OF GONDOR!"


	21. Intermission: Mars 1

_**Foreword** : Ladies and gentlemen, please give a round of applause to **Berat2beti** , who wrote this next chapter to add to the rich universe of Event Horizon and to hopefully kick off the year 2016 with a bang with an engaging and eye-opening piece that offers a new perspective into the setting._

* * *

 **T.E.C. Headquarters  
Olympus Mons, Tharsis Montes Region  
T.E.C./NovaCorp Territory, Planet Mars  
November 30, 2154 C.E. **

Tharsis Montes one of the most important regions on Mars, home to humankind's largest mining operations by the NovaCorporation, on and around an extinct volcano three times the size of Mt. Everest on Earth. But unknown to the public or even most of the employees working there, deep in the heart of Olympus Mons sits the board of directors of the shady and elusive organization known as the Technology Energy Conglomerate. And today, the agenda was dominated by the latest developments concerning Mars, Earth, and Epsilon Eridani.

No human could be found here; instead, the dark chamber was lit up with nine animated holographic images floating in mid-air, each unique: a red orb, the Twitter bird, a polished greatsword, a theatre mask, a set of weighing scales, a grandfather clock, a glass beaker, a telephone, and a sledge hammer. Each of these avatars spoke with a different voice, the exact identity of the individual behind each a closely guarded secret.

"What is the status of the Islamic State since our ousting of their last bastion in the Arabia Terra?" asked the red glowing orb at the head of the table, its voice betraying neither emotion nor gender.

The holographic sword replied, its voice sounding like that of an elderly gentlemen: "Sir: since our tampering with their water supplies, the bio-domes they use to sustain their bases in this sector have become unsalvageable, and they have since fled to Isidis Basin. What's left of the once mighty _Islamic State Of Mars_ is a mere joke on it's last leg a swift strike should finish them."

"Yes a swift strike that will be also swiftly made its way all over Spacebook as well as leading to another United Nations hearing where I'll be forced to defend our actions against that Relena Witch again," snidely commented the Twitter bird emblem with the voice of a woman.

The theater mask's face twisted into a downward frown as it spoke next: "Ah yes, Relena Frieden, the voice of the people and colonies and bane of all corporate entities and militaries. She'll gripe and Public Relations will pay a small fine, and perhaps also sacrifice a less-than-stellar overseer or two in one of our extra-solar bases, and then go right back to business as usual. We've danced this waltz before, Madam."

The scales, however, were not entirely convinced by the mask's reasoning: "I'm afraid that might not be the case this time. If what we've heard from our field agent is true, and if what we've intercepted is correct, Epsilon Eridani's deteriorating situation may force the UN to actually flex the muscle everyone seems to have forgotten they have."

"How so?" asked the red orb

"UNASEC grants corporations like The Company™, NovaCorp, Arcturus, Guanlong, and so on the rights to explore, colonize, and prepare worlds deemed habitable or capable of becoming habitable for future colonization," began the scales, "this gives us a large amount of free reign in how we run and operate so long as we don't damage the world. It's why Ms. Frieden can't truly harm us. Mars is still a long way from complete terra-forming, and with the ISOM and North-Korean-in-name-only declared pariah states and so on, the UN is willing to grant us a free hand in 'dealing' with these rogue nations so long as we are discreet about it, and so long as we keep the flow of vital minerals into Earth's economy stable. But with EE's situation not getting better, as soon as it becomes public knowledge, what of the wars, monsters, and... these so-called 'Thaumic arts'... the public won't be distracted so easily. They'll want answers. They'll be scared. And people like Ms. Frieden will no doubt capitalize on this fear to pass her peacenik legislation to force corporate entities to be more open and stifle our plans on non-developed worlds, never mind our offices, bases, and outposts on fully developed worlds."

Across from the scales, the grandfather clock snorted. "I feel you're blowing it out of proportion," it began, "though things on EE aren't that bad yet, just savages swinging swords at each other, hardly surprising. A few wars concerning succession, religion, or just plain conquest happen all the time with primitive peoples; it's just what we did in those days when we were no different. We can even point to Fraulein Frieden's German ancestry and their Thirty Years War over such trivialities as religion. Honestly if this is what that witch and her social justice warriors will use as evidence for tighter regulation and stifling of the free market, I doubt we should be worried. Yes, the introduction of this so-called 'magic' is concerning, but it won't tip the scales just yet. No pun intended."

"I'm not so sure about that," interjected the scales, "one of those 'magic-wielders' just managed to send a UNCDF Colonial Marine fireteam running with their tail between their legs."

"Yes, an incompetently-planned and managed one," corrected the Sword, "the way they're running things so far, a disaster was inevitable sooner or later."

"But it isn't just 'men swinging swords', now is it?" spoke up the beaker with a voice much younger than the others. "Those so-called 'Orcs' and 'Beast Men' are like something out of a bad fantasy game published by some second rate developer that will be sure to turn heads, and the UNCDF will have to be ready to answer why their boys are off fighting a physical manifestation of what we portray Satan as for the past two thousand years. Never mind how any one will answer how these life-forms even function with such grotesque levels of mutations that my boys in the labs are hypothesizing like mad just based on the images. It is a shame that we don't have an actual physical specimen in our possession at this time."

The holographic clock responded: "And you seem to forget our own friends in the UN, most important of which being Madame-Admiral Miranda Thrawn. She knows that we, the TEC, provide the best military grade tech. Our contributions are what make the UNCDF's Star Fleet, Colonial Marine Corps, ISO, and Omega Force all possible. Ms. Thrawn and the UN Security Council will not throw us under the bus any time soon. In fact, these incidences could be seen as why the UNCDF needs more ships, weapons, and troops on the colonies than ever before, and an opportunity for Ms. Thrawn to justify the expansive UNCDF budget increases that will inevitably result in more funding for our own R&D side projects. Perhaps we finally won't need to penny pinch on what long term project we can invest time and money into."

The next hologram to speak was the one that took the shape of an old office telephone from that glorious period of human civilization's history known as 'The Eighties': "I believe we've spent enough time on this topic. We really should return to the topic concerning our ongoing war efforts." Most in the room agreed with the telephone's assertion.

The sword was only too happy to be returning to a topic that seemed to please him greatly: "Yes, well it certainly appears that sabotaging their water supply has crippled the Islamic State. They are in full retreat. The UN won't raise a hand to save them, nor will any country on Earth. Anyone who tries to help them, we'll of course make sure that any shipments of aid get stopped for 'inspection'. Give it maybe a year or two if we're being generous, and they'll wither on the vine."

"I would advise we don't get too complacent," cautioned the telephone, "after all, a cornered dog still bites in their final death throes. They may attempt a final offensive, and with the number of delicate operations and projects we are running at the moment, I'd rather not risk it."

"Yes," agreed the scales, "and let us also not forget that the sooner we put an end to ISOM once and for all, the sooner we must find a new enemy to rally our cause against, a new justification for our every action. And not every new enemy is as painfully predictable nor easily countered as that which one is already familiar with."

"This reminds me, what is the progress in Project: Oryx?" asked the Red Orb.

The holographic sledge hammer spoke up: "The inner pieces of the ships such as life support, TransLight Drive, TransLight Communications array, etc. are being constructed in our facilities in Ascraeus Mons, Pavonis Mons, and Arsia Mons. The main hulls will be assembled in the Argyre Basin." Hammer's voice was heavy and synthetic, more machine now than man; no doubt the constant work out in the deserts of Mars had effected him greatly.

"Is it wise to keep Oryx's inner workings so close to Olympus Mons?" inquired Red Orb, "NovaCorp may 'respect' our privacy for now, but sooner or later they'll want to know what we're doing." He or she or it did have a point; NovaCorp was just as capable of corporate espionage as The Company™ or the UN's ISO.

"Highly unlikely at the moment," spoke the Mask with confidence in its voice, "NovaCorp is too busy with The Company™ and with Atlas Corp., all three shiving each other with public statements, products, front companies, political groups, and politicians, to pay attention to us right now." It then turned to the beaker: "back to projects then. How is Project Testa Mundi coming along? I hear we've narrowed it down to two distinct choices?"

"Yes," replied Beaker, curtly, "we can commence the first phase of construction within the next three years."

"What about Epsilon Eridani?" asked Sword, "should we invest in this 'Thaumic energy research'? And should we also invest in establishing outposts of our own in the system? It could provide advances in our own weapons and technological development, as well as our ongoing research into Dark Energy."

Red Orb replied: "We'll have our field agents investigate this 'Thaumic energy' phenomenon and it's applications on Planet EE-L0. We'll dispatch a full 8 man field team to study Thaumic energies across all worlds in the system. And yes, that includes this issue of the existence of these alleged 'deities' and how can we combat or at least contain the influence of the more hostile ones. And, of course, we will take an, ahem, active interest in the recovery and rehabilitation of this Mr. Adamsen."

"And, pray tell, will The Company™ accept this?" asked Twitter Bird, "they seem to be guarding their colonization rights there rather zealously."

"They'd be fools to turn down the TEC!" asserted Clock, "our reputation speaks for itself. I'm honestly surprised that they have gone to Masrani, to Guanlong, and to Arcturus before considering us!"

"To be entirely fair," spoke Scales, "all three of these entities do command considerable sway in their respective governments. Arcturus of course provides the best private security forces anywhere throughout Earth and the Colonies, and unlike the UNCDF, they bear no scruples or self-pretentious morals whatsoever. And Masrani alone ... lottery tickets for their slots on the _Joseph Conrad_ mission go on sale next week and they have already pre-sold over half-a-billion units. In a country of three billion. That level of political and economic clout in that part of Planet Terra is worth having on one's side."

"Then we'll just have to give The CEO the proper incentive to allow our field team in," spoke Hammer, "and if the carrot does not work, there is always the stick: we can always go to Thrawn; she'll certainly get things moving."

The Mask laughed. "Send one Ice Queen against another? Classic."

"Now to weapons," continued Sword, "while I'd feel comfortable sending our agents with the best, we still can't have The Company™ nicking the designs on our best toys just yet, so will send three specialized weapons and 5 regular. I'm afraid that our heavy tachyon lasers are out of the question for now, but I do intend to send our team with at least one Standard Template Construct (STC) for _in situ_ production to suit any special mission needs."

"Very well," concluded Red Orb, "if we've covered everything, I think we can declare this meeting adjourned."

The holograms all disappeared and shortly afterwards two messages were sent out; one to The CEO of The Company™, and the other to the Grand Admiral of the United Nations Star Fleet.


	22. Fords & Fell Beasts

_**Chapter 22: Fords And Fell Beasts**_

 **The Witch-King (I)**

It was a great winged creature that now soared high above the soaring peaks of the Ephel Dúath Mountains. If bird, it was greater than all other birds (save for the possible exception of that accursed fowl of Manwe himself, who could probably beat this creature easily in a one-on-one fight), and it was naked, and neither quill nor feather did it bear, and its vast pinions were as webs of hide between horned fingers; and it stank. But such minor olfactorly offensive details of were of no consequence to the rider who now sat mounted upon its back; all that mattered was that it could fly. _Yes, this new ride will do nicely for my purposes_ , thought the Witch-King Of Angmar to himself as he gripped the reins tightly in his right mailed glove, his left one clutching his copy of that ancient and forgotten and foreboding tome entitled _How To Train Your Fell Beast_.

The loss of his old steed at the Ford Of Bruinen still irked him greatly, as had his rather ignoble defeat at Amon Sûl by a miserable mortal wielding a... a measly piece of burning wood, of all things! How such a pathetic and spiteful lowly creature like that Man could stand before even the King himself, let alone his fellow other Nazgûl, perplexed and bereaved him greatly. Still, this was a war far from over. He looked down at the creature upon whom he now rode. _I think I shall name you... Binkyë_ , he mused to himself. _Good boy, Binkyë. Together, we shall bring endless misery and desolation to the pitiful realms of these insignificant mortals._

The fell beast roared a shrill bloodcurdling scream as if in agreement with the terrible will of its master. The Witch-King tugged back on the reins, executing a perfect barrel roll, and then brought his new ride to a (somewhat) smooth landing upon the ground, right in front of the walls of Minas Morgul. "You shall serve me well," boomed the lifeless and decrepit and thousands-year-old voice of the Witch-King, like the sound of an echo on crypt walls, as he dismounted and petted the creature on the side of its huge head, "here, treat thyself."

"No, no, NO NO NO NO! AHHHH!" screamed a lowly Orc, stripped nude and chained, as he was pushed and prodded forward by the guards behind him. Binkyë The Terrible yelped gleefully as it lurched forward and snapped its great jaws around its lunch, and shook it violently back and forth, like a great black winged dog playing with a rat. One does not come between the Nazgûl and its prey indeed. The guards looks visibly disturbed at the grisly spectacle, but the Witch-King moved on, completely un-bothered at all.

Leaving Binkyë behind in the care of its handlers (with the expectation that at least a couple of them would be dead within the hour, not that it concerned him at all), the Lord Of Minas Morgul half-strode, half-glided onwards to the fields where the hosts were gathering. The guards saluted him as he entered the main command tent – a large, low structure stitched from the dried flayed skins of several dozen Men and Orc both. There, he found a small command staff that bowed and noticeably shivered in his presence. One of his lieutenants by the name of Gothmog (who just so happened to share a name with the Lord Of Balrogs from the First Age) stepped forward, and spoke: "M'lord!" he began, "latest news from Isengard is that Lord Saruman believes he can have the plans and a working prototype of both the smaller handheld device, as well as the larger one too both delivered within the fortnight!"

"And how soon may we begin equipping our forces?" seethed the King.

"It would take considerable retooling of our smithies and foundries, M'Lord," replied Gothmog, nervously, "but the powder on the other hand will be far easier to acquire. Once we receive fresh imports of sulfur from Amon Amarth... as for saltpeter, we have begun modifying our latrines for the collection of the needed substance. M'Lord!"

"Good. See to it that it gets done. I trust you will not disappoint me, Captain." Gothmug visibly gulped as the King then turned to face the others assembled in the tent. "And these are the survivors of Morannon?" Gothmog nodded. "What are your names?" he commanded.

"Sir!" spoke the first one, saluting, "Krash, Sir!"

"Lunk!" spoke the second, "reporting for duty, Sir!"

"You saw these 'People From Beyond The Sky' in combat, up close and in person?" The voice of the undead King was like the rattling of dry bones on a cold stone floor.

"Sir! Yes, sir!" replied Krash.

"You are familiar with their tactics and techniques?"

"Sir! Yes, without question, we could recognize one if we saw it! Sir!" replied Lunk.

"Step forward, Krash and Lunk," boomed the Witch-King's voice like the creaking of iron chains. The two terrified orcs obliged. "By the power invested in me by our Lord and Savior Sauron The Great, I hereby name you Field Commanders of the Great Host Of Mordor!"

"My... my... my L-Lord!" blurted Krash, falling to his knees, "I... I am not worthy of this honor!"

Emotionless and expressionless, the King continued: "when we are ready, you will lead our forward assault into Gondor. May you deliver endless death and pain and ruination unto those foolish and pitiful mortals. Praise be to Sauron The Great, The Magnificent And Ever Wise, Lord Of The Rings, And True Ruler Of The Earth!"

"HAIL SAURON!" echoed the rest of everyone gathered in the tent, including and especially the two new field commanders.

* * *

 **The Horse Prince (I)**

The sun was setting over the Misty Mountains in the west, casting a golden orange glow over the plains of the Riddermark that radiated a deceptive warmth on this frosty winter day. But the view was not what was most pressing on the mind of Prince Théodred, Son Of Théoden and Second Marshall Of The Mark. No, it was the group of some two dozen or so riders now approaching his camp from that direction. Théodred winced; half an entire _Éored_ , some sixty men and horse in all, had ridden out with Éomer last week, and now less than half that number returned.

The only small comfort to him was that even from this distance, he could recognize the personal banner of his dearest cousin, who was more a brother to him. Éomer at least had returned alive, but most of the men who had ridden with him were people Théodred had known personally, had spent years riding and fighting alongside. Whatever had happened to them could not be good at all.

"Brother! My Lord!" addressed Éomer as he galloped through the camp with urgent haste and came right up to where the Prince had set up his personal tent. "It is precisely as we have feared! Isengard is preparing to march as we speak."

"What did you see?" asked the Horse Prince.

"Orcs, My Lord. Thousands of 'em," answered the man riding beside Éomer, a fellow knight of Rohan by the name of Erkenbrand. "Including those new half-men ones, bigger and meaner than any orc I've ever seen before. Supported by as many Dunlendings, and at least a thousand warg-riders. At our best guess, they will be crossing the Fords Of Isen in five days' time at most. We... lost many a good man."

"That does not give us much time to prepare," frowned the prince as he looked around at the other Men Of Rohan who were now gathering around to hear the Marshall's report. Assembled here in this camp at that moment were some dozen-and-a-half _Éored_ , about 1,500 riders in total. It was barely a tenth of what Théodred knew was the Riddermark's total available manpower, but it was the best that could be levied on such short notice, and especially in light of that coward Grima's obstructions. No matter the manner that battle would come, the Rohirrim would be outnumbered, and there simply was no time now to raise additional men. _If we ride now_ , he thought to himself, _we may just beat them to the Ford with enough time to prepare some defenses and halt their crossing_...

"That's not the worst of it, my liege," replied Éomer, taking off his helmet and shaking his head in dismay, "when we tried to obtain a closer look at the make-up their forces, they opened up upon us with a... new weapon of some kind."

"Oh?"

"My Lord, it was like nothing I have ever seen before," began Erkenbrand, "we thought we were just outside of the range of their arrows, and that was when we heard the sound, a hundred cracks in the air, and saw the flashes of light and flame spat out from each of them. Nine men and horse fell immediately, and the rest panicked from the smoke and foul smell of fire and brimstone. More fell when they unleashed their second volley."

"Aye, and that was not the worst of it," muttered Éomer, "these weapons that spit flame and iron further than any bow – these were just the smaller handheld ones. I glimpsed a larger one too, one so large that it was mounted on wheels and pulled by a dozen wargs. By the time they had set up this weapon, we were already gone. But I dread to imagine what such a device, fully prepared, could wreak upon an army in the field... or worse, against the walls of Edoras, or Helm's Deep."

Théodred could not believe what he was hearing. Never before had he felt so helpless. Father was sickly and ailing at a time when the Kingdom needed him most direly, and Grima was only proving to be as obstructive and obnoxious as ever. The fate of Rohan rested in his hands, and yet, if what Éomer and his scouts were reporting was true... he looked around him, at his fellow knights and brothers-in-arms gathered around, each as confused as he at the news, all looking to him for guidance on what to do next. If he gave the order now, the Rohirrim would ride out and would make the Fords Of Isen in time and could attempt to hold it, perhaps ambush the orcs as they crossed. But... these new weapons that Eomer had spoken of had now given him pause for doubt. Théodred despaired; he knew that that moment, more so than ever, was not the time for doubt or inaction, but he just didn't know what to do.

A horn was sounded; Théodred recognized it as belonging to one of the sentries posted on duty. Within seconds, sure enough, one of them came galloping up to the prince's side. "My liege!" began the guardsman, bowing as he approached, "we have a... a messenger of some kind, who has requested to see you in person."

"What?" he remarked, "out here? And on what grounds does he come to us for?"

" _She_ claims to be a friend of Gondor, and of Rohan's too," answered the guardsman, "and she wishes to speak to you concerning a matter of the utmost importance, though she did not state what."

"My Lord, _she_ could be an agent of Isengard," warned Erkenbrand.

"Regardless, we should hear what she has to say," replied Théodred, "and if she comes here to kill me, then I will have need of good honorable men at my side to protect me. Show her in."

The sentry returned several minutes later, accompanied by a young-looking, but tall and unmistakably strong Elven lady, with long dark brown hair. She wore white flowing robes that were perfectly clean and spotless, despite the fact that she had evidently traveled long and hard across the mountains and plains to reach here. Was she an envoy of Lothlorien or of Rivendell? Or somewhere else perhaps?

"Who are you?" began Éomer, "and what, pray tell, brings you here? Speak!"

"My sincerest greetings, Monarchs Théodred and Éomer," she began, "my name is Vidyë, and I come here on behalf of certain allies of the Kingdom Of Gondor."

Théodred was confused. "A friend of the White Tree is a friend of the Rohirrim, but you come at a most curious and inconvenient time."

"So I have discerned," replied Vidyë, "and I should perhaps advise you against the course of action you were about to pursue. As you will no doubt have heard from your cousin's report, the military forces associated with the polity known as Isengard have recently acquired the knowledge to produce field weapons of great destructive firepower – well, relative to your technological level in any case. Although Isengard's versions of these weapons are as yet primitive and basic, and their training and instruction in their use still substandard at best, they nevertheless possess strength in sufficient numbers as to make any assault upon them, especially by a force as, I regret to say this, poorly-equipped and ill-prepared as yours, potentially ruinous – and with a high probability of resulting in _your death_."

For some reason, that last statement really unnerved Théodred. Others too, he noticed, seemed to take issue with this Elven lady's declaration as there were a great many murmurs and other more raucous reactions from the men gathered around them.

"So, what do you propose as an alternative?" asked Éomer, coldly, "are you perhaps suggesting that we surrender without a fight? Allow these orcs and Wildmen of Dunland to run roughshod across the Riddermark? To pillage and enslave our people as they always have?"

"Whether or not we can preserve the Kingdom Of Rohan as a viable political entity beyond the next month or so will be highly contingent on what we agree upon next," replied Vidyë, without betraying a single emotion. "I seek a direct personal council with Monarch Théoden."

"Why should we trust you?" snarled Erkenbrand, "how do we know that you are not aligned with those who would bring ruination upon Rohan?"

"Because for better or worse, Commander Erkenbrand, we provide your kingdom's best chance towards surviving the coming conflagration. Now with that in mind, I kindly request of you again: take me to your leader."

* * *

 _ **Footnotes:**_

 _1\. Even though the planned "Fellowship subplot" has been dropped for various reasons, its effects will still be felt by the rest of this story. For example, in this story, the events at Amon Hen (at the end of the "Fellowship Of The Ring") end up significantly different from the Original Timeline (OTL), and this will have major repercussions on the events in Rohan and thus this universe's version of the events of "The Two Towers". Though in what ways this will impact the story, the reader will just have to wait to find out!_

 _2\. An Éored is the base unit of organization of Rohan's military, one of them being a single company of about 120 riders. Various sources I've read put Rohan's total military manpower at about 12,000 troops, but for purposes of this story, which will feature armies and populations on each world slightly larger than OTL, I've bumped the military of Rohan up to 15,000. Then again, given that I'm treating Rohan in this alternate universe as having a population of about 800,000 total, 15k represents a not-insignificant portion of all the males of fighting age._

 _3\. For being a thousands-year-old immortal undead wraith, the Witch-King Of Angmar really suffered quite a bit of Humiliation Conga in "Fellowship Of The Ring", getting constantly outsmarted by Frodo, beaten by Aragorn waving a burning branch, and then finally unhorsed at the Fords Of Bruinen (by Glorfindel and Elrond in the books, and Arwen in the film). Still, though, he is an immortal undead figure who now rides Binky The Terrible, and does command a huge army armed with guns and cannons now, so he'll still be a major threat to Gondor._


	23. A New Direction

_**Chapter 23: A New Direction**_

 **Main Command Center  
Colony Of "Beautiful Horizon"  
At The Mouth Of The River "Isen", West Coast of "Enedwaith"  
Continent of "Middle Earth"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5  
**  
Ever since the disastrous raid on Isengard, The Company™ had decided to put a temporary hold on any further adventurism for now. The flip side to having Mr. Lynn's gratitude (even if he didn't quite show it but they knew it was there all the same) was that Teller and Cheong had to take responsibility for the whole debacle. The Company™ Board of course knew the truth of the matter, and had offered to pay the UN generous compensations for the loss of Pvt. Antiguo, and the injuries of Pvt. Caldwell and Adamsen. But all the same, for the sake of appearances, it would not look good to anyone – not to the UN, not to the shareholders, not to the general public or the whistleblowers – if The Company™ resumed what was probably in retrospect a pretty reckless foreign policy so soon after the most recent reversal of fortune.

In the mean time, the lull in any further adventures for now actually ended up being a bit of well-needed respite for the team at Beautiful Horizon. The first batch of locally hired laborers had arrived last week, 60 of them in total. Both of the colony's two Falcon shuttles were needed, since each could only seat 30. This setup wasn't exactly ideal, but the larger Valyries were on a tight schedule and needed to run the routes between all three worlds and the _Horizonte_ , and at least two more Valks were needed to harvest the gas from the atmosphere of Planet EE-7, the gas giant that was the largest planet in the System, which would eventually be refined into reactor fuel, for all three colonies and also to refuel the ship for its eventual voyage back to Earth.

EE-L5 was by far the least populous and most sparsely populated habitable world in the system, and in the long-run it was hoped that this would make this planet The Company™ main residential, tourist, and agrarian-centered colony here in the EE System, while the industry and research would be concentrated on the other three (especially once L3 was finally opened up for business). In the mean time, however, the payoff for this low population density was that they just couldn't hire workers among the natives in the numbers they had on the other worlds, and with the war going on and especially after that disastrous raid setting them back a few men, they would need a much larger native militia to compensate.

But Angela was optimistic that things would look up. They always did in the end. Without any further adventures abroad, save for their already ongoing pet projects with Gondor, they had instead turned their focus on more local affairs. Next month, with Lord Denethor's blessing, they would commence construction on the road that would connect the colony to Western Gondor. It was sparsely populated, but the few towns and villages in that region would become all the more accessible to the colony for trade or labor with a road in place. The nearest large city was Dol Amroth, over 500 miles away, but the Badger Road-Cutting Machines could average about 20 miles per day. And then there was also the small port they were now building here at the mouth of the nearby Isen River. Once word had gotten out, it would not be that long before merchants would begin arriving by sea to see just what The Company™ had to offer.

And, of course, there were two very good reasons for the temporary halt as well...

"Hello?" asked Angela as she entered the main conference room, "Mr. Teller? VIDI? Tremblay? Riversong? Anyone here?" It was empty. _Strange_ , she thought, _I'm absolutely certain this was the time and place everyone had marked in their schedule_. For the first time in a long time, she began to dread that she might have gotten the time and date and venue wrong...

Just then, the holo-projector began to glow of its own accord, and at once the room was filled with the form of an all-too familiar face dominating the area...

"Miss Cheong," spoke Director Domenech E. Belleville, "I trust things are going swell as usual."

"Mr. Belleville," remarked Angela, surprised, "what an unexpected... pleasure, I..." she glanced around, "is Mr. Teller not joining us today? Tremblay? Riversong? Smith and all the others too?"

"I spoke with him earlier and told him to take the rest of the day off," replied Belleville, blankly, "I knew that boy would blow a fuse sooner or later."

Angela glumly agreed. The stress of trying to micromanage this colony along with the other two was starting to weigh in on all of them, but poor Teller seemed to take it worse than most. Mr. Belleville continued: "As for the others, I've taken the liberty of sending each and everyone of them a message, from your account, telling them that today's meeting is canceled. I wanna speak to you and you alone."

That couldn't be good. On one hand, Angela knew it couldn't be something she did, because she could not for the life of her think of what she could have done wrong, and, not to boast or anything, but if she did something wrong, it usually meant that everyone else must have fouled up too. No, it must be something important that Belleville was unwilling to entrust to anyone else. "Yes sir," she replied simply, not knowing what else to say.

"First off, I'd like to begin by letting you know that PR is working their asses off here trying to paint Mr. Antiguo's death in the best possible light," he began, "Yes, we're saving humanity and all that crap, but all the same, you can imagine what a media stir that's going to cause when it eventually becomes public. When I told you guys to start a war, I think it was pretty implicitly clear that I meant a war we could, you know, _win_. And now we have to live with the fact that the fighting men and women of the UNCDF under _our heroic leadership_ , got their asses handed to them by some old guy who looks like some British b-movie star, and a bunch of man-chimps toting spears and arrows. I hope Mr. Lynn appreciates what we're doing for his career."

"The CEO approved of our proposal and..."

"And if The CEO told you to jump off a cliff, or to put frikkin' Fred in charge of a colony, would you?" he sneered back, cutting her off.

"Sir," she replied, politely, "Mr. Teller felt that assigning Mr. Kovacs to..."

"Enough of that, that's irrelevant," blurted Belleville, "point is, we've saved Mr. Lynn's sorry ass but don't think it came cheaply. I'd rather have two wizards working for our thaumaturgical research section than a dead Marine, God bless him. What've you figured out so far?"

"We are still... err... trying to figure out how Mr. Saruman was able to find out about our operation and prepare for our assault. As we stated in the last report, we believe that either his magic allows him to spy on our operations, or else we have a mole within the colony. Either possibility is an equally unpleasant one."

"Yes, yes, go on," he said impatiently, "what do you know already?"

"Sir, we have given careful consideration and analysis to both possibilities. As yet, all of our research into thaumic energy and its related phenomena is concentrated at our research facility at Crimson EquinoX. However, we've corresponded at length with Dr. Garrett and his team and they have posited that some of the natives of these world may have a natural means of achieving instantaneous communication that may be similar in principle to our own Trans-Light Communication like that which we are using as we speak, further linking 'magic' with dark energy. Such an ability would form the basis for further skills such as clairvoyance and, since it would operate outside of the normal rules of relativity, possibly a means of looking into the future as well."

"If this Saruman fellow has such an ability, it is imperative you either commandeer this asset for our purposes, or at the very least neutralize this threat as soon as possible," fumed Belleville. "But... I understand the UN doesn't want any more escapades from us for now, so think of something. Now, what about this second theory, the mole?"

Angela shifted uncomfortably. "We... haven't any leads as yet on that front. That's another reason we're holding back for now, lest this individual try to sabotage another one of our operations. We're leaving most of our highest priority assignments to VIDI, but she's only one person."

"Only one _unit_ ," corrected Belleville, "she's a _thing_ , not a person. I'm glad you're getting your money's worth outta her, but I'd rather you catch this traitor sooner than later. And in the interests of expediency and avoiding all that unnecessary bureaucracy and hoopla, if you find this motherfucker, you have my permission to, ahem, arrange a little accident. So... who do you think it is?"

"I haven't the slightest," she answered.

"You sure?" inquired Belleville, narrowing his eyes, "no-one you bear any personal grudges against? Or, more importantly, no-one failing in their duty to The Company™?"

"No-one," replied Angela, asserting herself. Truth be told, she could think of a few individuals, but she knew also that a false lead could bring only disharmony and bitterness to everyone, let alone potentially ruin an innocent person's career.

"Miss Cheong, if I am direct and blunt, do not mistake these for signs I don't appreciate the work that you and everyone else there is doing," said Belleville, "but that's all the time I have. Good bye, and I anticipate your next report. Over and out."

* * *

 ** _Somewhere else entirely...  
_**  
"KYRA, LOOK OUT!" shouted Jan Adamsen, as he lunged at her with all his strength. Time seemed to slow down, as if everything was in slow motion, and Jan could see it all... Kyra Lynn stood there, turning to face him, her eyes strangely visible through the otherwise dark, opaque visor that covered her face.

And then they made contact, and Jan pushed her out of the way, just as the stream of glowing red sparks and crackling bolts came sailing right over Jan's head; he could almost feel the heat of them on the back of his neck, even through the thick fatigues he wore.

But they had only leapt from the frying pan into the fire below: Jan looked all around him, and suddenly, the tower and all the lands around it had vanished, and there was nothing but cold, dark, silent whiteness, surrounding him. He knew he was falling, but he couldn't see neither the ground below nor the sky above, nor even the very tower they had just fallen from. All he could see was Kyra, falling down right after him... except now her helmet had disappeared and instead he could see her face looking back at him, motionless and expressionless, but with fear and frustration clearly burning in her eyes, her long hair fanning out around her head. She was holding her right hand out, reaching for him.

He tried to reach back for her. There was no ground to stand upon, nothing to place his feet on and push off, but he strained himself towards her all the same. He stretched forward his right hand. Their fingers brushed one another's...

And then there came the sound of a cable snapping taut, like the cracking of a whip, and Kyra was suddenly and violently jerked backwards away from him. Jan closed his grip, but his hand grasped only air. He flailed about helplessly as he watched her shrink away from him and then disappear into the mist that now engulfed them both.

He was falling but he knew not where was up nor where was down. Instead, the very mist around him seemed to come alive with flashes of lightning and vivid bursts of color and noise. Shadows of all shapes and forms danced in the void around him, some taking the form of winged creatures, others the form of bizarre humanoid figures, twisting and reshaping themselves as they swirled around him. Thin sinewy shapes, like veins or wires or something snaked their way through the air around him. He tried to close his eyes, and to his horror, found that he had no eyelids. It was then that he heard, above the great cacophony that surrounded him, the voices...

 _"We're losing him!"_

 _"We can rebuild him... but not here."_

 _"Doctor, are you reading this?"_

 _"There! On the monitor! Something's wrong."_

 _"That's unexpected. And fascinating. But we could lose him. Give him another dose of the sedative."_

 _"It's been several days; how's the subject doing?"_

 _"He's reacting to outside stimuli. Showing an awareness of his surroundings."_

And then, without explanation, a gleaming light began to shine out of the corner of his eye, and everything faded to white...

"AH!" he gasped as he woke and sat up with a start. His vision was blurred and hazy, his mind spinning, his head still in pain. But slowly and surely, whether it was minutes or hour or days, his vision and clarity slowly returned to him. He blinked.

"Easy, try to relax," said the voice, and for the first time he could see that it was a woman who greeted him, dressed in a pristine white lab coat, a Company™ logo and badge very clearly visible on her breast pocket. There were two other people in the room, but they were standing at the back, only observing what was going on. "You've been out a while, and your body's still having trouble adjusting. Here, have this; it'll help," continued the first voice as she handed him a cup. Jan took it without question, and drank it. It wasn't water, but it was cool and refreshing and it was the first thing he had had to drink for a while, and that's all that mattered to his dry mouth and throat. That made things better. When he was done, he looked back up to address his visitor...

"Good morning, Pvt. Jan Adamsen," she spoke as she sat down beside him. "I am Doctor Cristina Di Stefano, with The Company™'s Biomedical Research division. I don't believe we had the opportunity to meet before the _Horizonte_ arrived here in the system."

"Where... where am I?" droned Jan, groggily, "and what day is it?"

"Day 93 After Arrival. January 03, 2155," answered the doctor, "Happy New Year, Pvt. Adamsen."

 _Christ, it was barely 2 weeks past Halloween last I remember_... thought Jan grimly to himself. He looked around him. It was a clean, white hospital room, which almost could have been anywhere on Earth or in one of the colonies, so his eyes ran immediately to the window. Outside he saw a vast complex of buildings and prefabs, hundreds of workers milling about. In the distance, he could see a massive structure under construction, several tower cranes erected around it. He remarked: "either Beautiful Horizon has grown a lot in the last two months, or something tells me I'm on one of the other worlds."

"Correct on both counts," she replied, "Our L5 Colony has indeed grown considerably while you were out, but that out there is Crimson EquinoX. Welcome to EE-L0, Pvt. Adamsen. When you were brought here, Lt. Archer had Pvt. Sanders transferred to take your place in Sgt. Rico's unit."

"Is the rest of my team... safe?" asked Jan quickly.

The doctor shook her head. "Pvt. Antigo didn't make it. His body was recovered together with yours and is waiting to be shipped back to Earth for burial. The rest of your team, however, made it out alright." Jan was relieved. She continued: "Pvt. Caldwell was declared fit to return to active duty after two weeks of recovery. Sgt. Rico and Pvt. Dreyfus have been assigned to..." she quickly consulted her Holotablet, "... _Minas Tirith_ , to help train the natives there with the new army we're helping them form. And Cpl. Lynn is taking charge of the rest of the fireteam back at the colony. Everyone is well for now, though it looks like things are heating up elsewhere on L5."

Jan shook his head and growled: "Phil was a good man. He deserved better than this. When I get my hands on Kyra's good-for-nothing cousin, I'm gonna...!"

"Calm down, Mr. Adamsen, working yourself up at this stage of recovery isn't advisable," cautioned the doctor, "rest assured though, Cpl. Lynn already gave Insp. Lynn a rather scathing piece of her mind."

"I can only imagine," muttered Jan, rolling his eyes. "So... once I'm back on my feet, what then? Are you gonna keep me here on L0?"

"Yes," replied Cristina, "we requested, and Lt. Archer approved, that you be transferred here to take the place of Pvt. Sanders. Moreover, your body is still reeling from the extensive reconstruction we had to do – you did fall down over 150 meters. In the mean time, we have a _special assignment_ we thought would be just what you need to get back into shape. Hopefully nothing too major. In theory."

"Oh?"

"There's someone here at our colony we'd like you to meet."


	24. A New Direction II

_**Chapter 24: A New Direction II**_

 **Brandon (I)**

 _Good,_ came the Raven's words again _, you've taken your first steps into a wider world. If you want to see more, to learn more, to achieve more, you'll know where to find me..._

It had been just over a couple weeks now since he had awaken for the first time since his fall, and he could not stop thinking about the words. Someone was trying to reach out to him, beckoning him to come and unlock his inner strength. It was with great fear and yet fascination at the same time that Brandon Stark had asked, and the Sky-People had agreed, not to take him back to Winterfell just yet, but to first bring him here to this strange new world that looked so much like the one he had left behind, and yet it was so different at the same time.

He knew Mother would have never approved of his quest, but his host had agreed to tell Lady Stark that to remain here for some time was essential to his complete recovery. A few days ago, he himself had been offered the chance to speak to everyone thanks to that remarkable communications device of the Sky-People that could carry his voice to other worlds. He had spoken first to Jon, who was working for the Sky-People at their colony now, and in whom he confided this deepest of secrets. Jon had been against it at first, had even threatened to petition Lord Kovacs to bring him straight back to Winterfell before he relented at last.

He had next spoken to Mother and Robb and Rickon in Winterfell. Lady Catelyn was of course beside herself with joy, and Bran was happy to hear that his brothers were well too and that Winterfell was prospering, and that Robb had even had an idea of what was to be done to the old Broken Tower. And then finally he had the chance to speak to Father and Arya and Sansa too down in the capital, though he was sorry to hear that things had gone from bad to worse down there. All the same, simply to have heard their voices again, and for them to hear his as well... it had brought him to bittersweet tears to see his family, divided as they were, each of them facing their own challenges and dangers, but in some ways stronger and more united than ever before – again, thanks to the marvels of these foreigners.

He knew how much he meant to mother and father, and as such it pained Bran to know that he did not intend to return home right away, but first to try and discover the meaning of his dreams. He knew that once he returned, it would be back to life as normal, and this great chance of a lifetime would have passed. But the Starks, like the great walls of Winterfell itself, had always endured and persevered in the end; thus had they done so for thousands of years, and thus would they continue to do so no matter what the future held in store. Winterfell would still be there, waiting for him when he returned. For now, there lay an entire new universe at his feet, just waiting for him, calling to him, beckoning him to journey onwards.

The Sky-People called this world "EE-L-Zero", but it seemed that the people who lived here called it simply "the world", just as the people back home called his world "the world" and yet the Sky-People called it "EE-L4". He had only been here a few days, but he could already begin to perceive just how the people of this world differed markedly from home, and even from the Sky-People.

For starters, their devices were far ahead of anything in all the Seven Kingdoms – they had fire-arms of their own, and numerous small clockwork contraptions too, crafted elegantly out of iron and wood and cloth and polished brass. These machines, though, were still as-yet simple enough for even Bran to understand the logic of how they worked, and certainly well beneath the wonders and constructs of the Sky-People. In terms of their clothing and customs and heraldry, they too were far closer to the Realm than to the trading company.

They even seemed to worship a multitude of gods that at first reminded him of the Old Gods and the New, though two among them stood above the others, these being the ones named "Sigmar", and the Wolf-God named "Ulric". In this part of The Empire, so he was told, the Cult Of Ulric was more prominent than that of Sigmar, and in many ways, the sight of so many wolf banners and amulets and pendants among these people gave Bran a small measure of comfort and feeling of almost being home. At the very least, people did not react to his direwolf with fear but more respect and even a little reverence too. All told, insofar as the manner of their clothes and culture and craftsmanship were all concerned, Bran came to understand that the citizens of this great "Empire Of Man" were perhaps a sort of "intermediary phase", between the Realm and the Sky-People.

But they differed most from either the Realm or the Sky-People in one very crucial manner, and that was their practice of the magical arts. Nothing should have surprised Bran anymore, not after the last few weeks that he had witnessed the Sky-People's techno-sorcery at work, whether it be in small items like the flameless "electric" lanterns that now adorned Winterfell, or the enormous city-sized gleaming metal ship of theirs that could sail the endless seas of the black void. But all the same, for someone brought up in a land where sorcery had only ever existed in the tales of old, this new world of witchcraft and alchemy held innumerable wonders (and perhaps just as many dangers and nightmares as well, he realized). But it gave him a sense of purpose and hope too, to know that here, perhaps he could find someone who could help him understand...

"Good morning, Brandon Son Of Stark," began the tall, muscular youth who approached him where he sat. He was perhaps thrice Bran's age and ten-times his size and strength, with long golden hair and a noble face and complexion far above his humble origins as a blacksmith (and probably would have put even the Lannisters to shame, from what little Bran had seen of them). But in person, he was a gentle and kindly man, soft-spoken, and almost reminded Bran a little of his own lord father. The youth continued: "I hope this day bids you well?"

Bran could see from the way his lips moved that he spoke a foreign tongue, and yet somehow, perhaps it was the "improvements" Lady Stefano had spoken of, he deciphered the speech immediately, breaking it down and reforming it in his mind in the Common Tongue. He thought carefully about what he wanted to say, and when he spoke, he found that he returned the salutation in the foreign tongue. "I'm well, thank you Valten. And yourself?" He stood up, and at once the great direwolf who had been laying around by his side rose too.

"Woof!" barked Summer, wagging his tail. Valten smiled as he reach down with those immense arms of his, and petted the wolf upon its head like it were little more than a family hound to him. Summer responded by licking his hand.

"I heard shouting last night," remarked Bran, slightly worriedly, "and a... _boom?_ Is everyone alright? What happened?"

"Yes, I think that was Lady Sienna Fuegonasus," replied Valten, "have you met her?"

Bran shook his head, though he imagined he knew straight away whom she was. He had only glimpsed the wizards who were visiting here from afar, but by the Old Gods and the New did they leave quite the impression, even from that distance. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. In terms of their appearance, they wore different colored robes which indicated what Order they hailed from, and hence, which of the "Winds Of Magic" each was proficient in (though the combination of all the Orders gave the party the appearance not unlike a troupe of traveling Essosi performers). But he could sense that each of these persons harbored within them a great power like no other men Bran had ever met before, and he hoped that perhaps one among them could help him answer the questions that burned at the back of his mind...

"She's a member of the Bright Order," continued Valten, "she came here with the rest from Altdorf. The Bright Order... their Wind is Aqshy, the Lore Of Fire."

"You are knowledgeable in magic!" complimented Bran.

Valten frowned. "Father Huss taught me all that I know... because he looks upon the work of wizards with disdain, views them as a people rightfully to be feared and expunged. Their power comes from the Immaterium; whether they fight on our side or not, they bear the taint of the ruinous powers upon them."

Bran was confused. "Why would he teach you about magic when he himself abhors it?"

Valten shrugged. "One fights his enemies best when one knows and understands their nature and form."

"What do you think?" asked Bran. "Do you hate them?"

"I do not know for sure," sighed Valten, "the wizards of the Colleges Of Magic are a mysterious and illusive lot. But in the end, what does it matter? They take up arms to fight with us against the Ruinous Powers. They follow Sigmar or Urlic or Taal or Shallya. They're not like Chaos at all; they use their power to protect the innocent and heal the sick. Well... _mostly_ anyway."

Valten was much older and stronger than he, but all the same, Bran understood that here was a man who was very much lost and confused as to his place in this world, even before the Sky-People had arrived...

"Mr. Stark? Mr. Valten?" spoke another voice as a new person approached them. Bran blinked. He had never seen him before, and yet immediately he knew that something was very much off about him – one would say perhaps not too different from himself. At least he seemed friendly and approachable, and Summer did not react to him with hostility, so Bran was wary but not worried just yet.

"And who might you be?" asked Valten.

"Jan Adamsen, United Nations Colonial Marines," replied the man, holding out his hand in greeting, "I've been assigned to be part of a special program with Mr. Stark here. And you too, should you choose to join us."

* * *

 **Center for Biological & Medical Research  
Colony Of Crimson EquinoX  
Sovereign Territory Of The "Grand Principality Of Ostland"  
Continent Of "The Old World"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L0  
**  
"As you requested: Subject: J. Adamsen. Age: 27. Place Of Birth: Malmö, Sweden, Nordic Alliance. Affiliation: United Nations Colonial Defense Force, Colonial Marine Corps. Rank: Private. Identification Number: JN-2187. Languages: fluent in English, Swedish, Danish, and German. Ethnic Composition: 62.5% Nordic; 12.5% Mediterranean; 18.75% Near-Middle Eastern..."

"That will do," said Dr. Petra Muysenbergh as she paced back and forth, "thank you VICI. Just have the complete files forwarded to my account."

"Affirmative, Dr. Muysenbergh," replied VICI, and then a microsecond later, "done."

Petra held up her Holotablet and pulled up the files that had just been received. "Perfect. It's all here. Hmmm... are those correct?"

"Numerous tests we have run over the last two months have verified this figure to as high a degree as is currently possible, although we are constantly improving the accuracy of our thaumometry capabilities," replied VICI. "Regardless, the results are clear: thaumic energy readings taken from Subject Adamsen, while lower than those we registered among those indigenous humanoids either versed in practical thaumaturgy or else in aberrant forms resulting from thaumically-induced mutation, nevertheless fall within the range that Dr. Di Stefano has theorized to be the lower-threshold for 'thaumic sensitivity' in our species. It would thus appear that Subject Adamsen may indeed be our very first confirmed thaumaturgist of Terran origin."

"Could it perhaps be genetic?" asked Petra, frowning.

"I'm working on that front," spoke up Cristina Di Stefano, who had been silent until now as she sat at her work-station, examining the 3D holographic DNA strand projected from her computer. She turned to face the others: "what Mr. Adamsen has could just be a random mutation. Or it could be due to the fact that our species and those who live upon these worlds may all possibly share a common origin at some point in the distant past. Either way, I hope that some of the _improvements_ we made will help bring out these attributes."

"Hang on, if we've always had magic-users among our population, why haven't we noticed them 'til now?" asked Robin Van der Merwe; he had overheard the conversation over from his workstation (until the new geology unit was completed, Van der Merwe had been temporarily set up here in the bio unit).

Calm and expressionless as usual, VICI turned to address this query. "It may perhaps be due to the fact that Planet Earth and the Sol System are generally 'low thaumic-activity environments'. By contrast, our observations thus far have confirmed some form of 'high-thaumic activity' is existent on all of the bodies of this system, with the highest concentrations of activity originating from within the star of Epsilon Eridani itself."

Cristina nodded in agreement. Although it was the four habitable worlds that hogged the vast majority of The Company™'s interests in the system (and justifiably so), it turns out that the other planets too, as well as the various moons and asteroids all had something fascinating going on within each and every one of them. She and her assistant Ray Benton had just gotten back from a brief trip over to L4, Bran's homeworld, where one of the things they had taken the time to study was its moon. L0 had two moons, though one of them seemed to exhibit dangerous levels of interfering thaumic and EM radiation that had precluded any further exploration for now. Not to mention the mighty gas giant EE-7, where their gas-harvesting operations were underway, and, of course, the mystery of the star itself...

"Perhaps being exposed to the higher levels of background thaumic radiation inherent to this system that precipitated Subject Adamsen's sudden 'awakening', so to speak," continued VICI. "Or perhaps it was his close proximity to another thaumically-active individual just prior to his injury."

"Maybe it's a good thing we didn't get this Saruman fellow after all," mused Dr. Sean Duff, who was sitting in the corner of the room, coffee in one hand, scanning through thousands and thousands of holographic pages that VICI had scanned from the Emperor's library last time he was in the capital. "I mean, seeing how much, ahem, _fun_ we're already having with this lot from Altdorf. Miss Fuegonasus seemed to have a real _blast_ with Dr. Savage and Hyneman last night, if you know what I mean."

 _Indeed_ , thought Cristi, _it's a fortunate thing that we designed this facility with reinforced walls... and a sprinkler system..._

"And it's a good thing Dr. Barath was too busy working on his little runestone project with the Dwarven delegation to join in their little light show," remarked Sean.

"Speaking of which, could someone please explain to me what exactly are they doing, apart from drinking at our bar all day long?" quipped Robin.

"Is it safe to let Mr. Adamsen work with the boy?" asked Petra, abruptly, and slightly worried. "Suppose he's unable to control his newfound powers..."

"Adamsen is a trained Marine of the UNCDF," replied Cristina, "and in any case, Bran will not be alone. He has his wolf, with whom he seems to share some psychic connection. And he is not without powers and improvements of his own."

"Still, is it right what we're doing?" asked Petra, putting her tablet down on the work desk, "keeping the boy here?"

"Bran is free to return home when he chooses, he's not our prisoner," said Cristina, "it was his choice to come here, his choice to seek out this mysterious power he speaks of. And perhaps in the process, help us understand a little more of the relationship between magic and man and machine."

"Yes, that's where I'm getting kinda worried," piped up Sean, looking up from his holo-book, "there's a good reason untrained mages are treated with fear and suspicion in this society, and that's because they're an easy target for... unwanted influences."

"If it is indeed that, then he will need to keep our patient under constant supervision and well-protected," explained Cristina. "And let us see if we can convince Ambassador Valten if he would be willing to join our little project as part of his duties to help protect his realm. I don't know if he really is 'Sigmar Reborn' as Mr. Huss seems to think, but I cannot doubt there is something unique about him, and I hope his influence will be a good one."

With that, she strode to the window to look out at the colony before them. The bio and medical division of the research base was almost complete, as it was smaller than and also kept separate from the main "center for thaumic energy research" (or "CERT" as they jokingly called it) – that was the enormous, stadium-sized concrete and steel structure that she could see dominating her view, ringed by a dozen tower cranes, teams of workers and a squad of HULK units moving back and forth, and the sparks of scores of welding torches at work lighting up the place.

Beyond CERT lay the rest of the colony of Crimson EquinoX. And my had it grown over these last three months. Cristi could still remember when they had nothing there but a small collection of tents and shipping containers and they had barely been there a few days when they already had to fight a major battle for their lives and for thousands of others as well. Any pretense that this was gonna be a walk in the park that hadn't already been put to rest by the month they'd spent observing this world from orbit was finally silenced in those few hours. They'd pulled through in the end, and the good rapport they had earned with the natives who were there had been invaluable to their efforts.

Still, even after that battle, that first month had been the worst – trying to find somewhere to shelter all those refugees, tending to the wounded, and of course trying to do all this with as-yet limited resources, to say nothing of the culture shock. The one saving grace had been to have had who else but the Emperor himself there at that moment. Even if Luthor Huss himself was a bit of a free radical, most of his followers were still ready to heed the Emperor's authority, especially when it came backed up by a dozen griffons and that magical hammer of his that was apparently an important artifact of their religion.

Those first few days had been tense, but things had started to gradually calm down after that as people tried to settle back into some semblance of normalcy. It had taken several days of hosting the Emperor and his delegation at the colony, of showing and explaining to them everything, and of course of all the lengthy negotiations that followed, but an official pact with The Empire had been signed (with the Emperor insisting, no less, that Django and Saito kneel and place their hands on his hammer whilst signing and swear an oath to uphold this alliance – to most Earth folks, that seemed a little bit of pageantry, but Cristina suspected that with such a highly thaumically active artifact, there must have been something going on below the surface. She quietly wondered what would happen to poor Django and Saito now if The Company™ ever broke that agreement...). As it turns out, not only did Karl Franz ride a griffon (which, so she heard, had made for some pretty neat action-figures The Company™ had marketed back on Earth over that Christmas shopping season), but he had, despite coming from a primitive and savage world, shown a keen intellect when it came to discussing matters of politics and trade (though perhaps that much was the minimum requirement for any head of state on this world just to survive...).

But now things were looking up. The exchanges they had made with The Empire had been mutually beneficial. And Crimson EquinoX was less a glorified campsite and now almost a small city, home to over 200 Company™ and UN personnel, and over a thousand native laborers. It was by far the largest colony in the EE System, and if the work that she and Dr. Garrett and Dr. Hyneman and others were to bear any fruit, it would be by far their most important in the long-run...


	25. In The Hall Of The Golden King

**_Chapter 25: In The Hall Of The Golden King_**

 **The Horse Prince (II)  
**  
They rode with great haste throughout the rest of the day and the night, and by the next dawn, they had arrived at the gates of Edoras, the thatched roof of Medusheld seeming gilded and gleaming from a distance as they approached. Théodred had been reluctant to delay, for every day meant that any hope of holding the Fords Of Isen as a natural defensive barrier was rapidly diminishing.

Normally, the open country was where the Rohirrim could have most played best to their strengths. But the army that Éomer had reported was far larger than they had been expecting, and ever since hearing about these new weapons that the White Wizard had at his disposal, suddenly, victory did not seem so certain as before. Make no mistake, this was no mere raiding party nor Dunlending warband; this was a full army bred and dedicated to one purpose, and that purpose could only be the material destruction of Rohan as a kingdom, as a people. If only they had had more time... more time to call more _éoreds_ to arms, more time to prepare provisions and strengthen defenses, more time to study and observe this new enemy and acquaint themselves with their weaknesses. If only father had not taken ill and provide the realm the leadership it needed in times as these. If only, if only...

It was for these reasons that Théodred had gone against his better judgment at the time to break from the war and bring this stranger to Edoras. But as they rode onwards, so too did he begin to realize that perhaps her bold claims of being Rohan's only hope were not so extravagant after all as he had initially taken them to be. Or perhaps they were, but regardless, it was not as if Théodred had any better options at the moment. He had seen Elves before, yes, but it had been long ago, and even from what little he could recall, the figure who rode beside him was like no-one else he could ever recall seeing before in his life.

As they approached, the city gates were thrown wide open, and Erkenbrand and one banner-bearer led the way, followed close behind by the Prince and their guest. A dozen riders brought up the rear, serving as their honor guard – the rest of the force had remained out in the field under the command of Éomer and Grimbold, with orders to continue probing and scouting out the encroaching invasion force.

They were greeted at the entrance of the hall by Háma, his father's trusted doorguard, and by another familiar face...

"Dear cousin!" cried Éowyn as she glided down the steps in front of the entrance to Medusheld, her golden hair and green dress fluttering in the breeze. "What news do you bring us from the field?"

"Much," replied the prince, "all of it bad. Your Brother has remained back with the main body of our host, but it appears the enemy facing us are greater in number and in choice of weaponry than we had believed. It is for this reason that we returned; I must speak to father right now!"

"Your father the King is unwell," came a voice from within – a voice Théodred had lately come to despise. Sure enough, within the great doors of Medusheld, a pale wizened face and heavy eyelids peered out from the darkness within. Out of the doors there stepped Grima, Son of Gálmód, the one he had heard that many around Edoras had taken to calling "The Wormtongue". How such a creature could have risen to his position of power and influence within Edoras, no-one could quite tell for sure. He had been with the Royal Court for as long as Théodred could remember, but it was only in recent months that he seemed to have climbed from just one of many faithful servants to his father, to suddenly his voice for all intents and purposes.

"My Prince!" continued Grima in his simpering tone, "I was not expecting your return so soon. These bandits must not have put up too much of a struggle then."

"These 'bandits' you speak of are more like an entire army," growled Théodred, "as we speak, an army bearing the White Hand of Saruman marches upon us. According to Éomer, they number in the thousands, and carry arms that can spit bolts of fire and burning lead across distances greater than any bow."

"My Prince, are we certain we can trust the word of your cousin?" hissed Grima. He cast a falsely apologetic look over at Éowyn as he spoke. "Perhaps Éomer is mistaken? No such weapons of the kinds you describe exist anywhere throughout all the lands of Middle Earth! The White Wizard, aye, yes he would be capable of such a feat, but a whole host of orcs?"

"On the contrary, Director Grima, I can attest to the existence of the weapons that Monarch Théodred is describing," interjected Vidyë from where she was standing beside the Prince. "I am well acquainted with the specifications and technological principles behind similar weapons. Although the Rogue State of Isengard is deploying an as-yet simple muzzle-loading design, they can prove deadly to your current forces, especially in light of their numerical superiority. Furthermore, I have reliable sources that can confirm the validity of Monarch Éomer's observations."

Grima seemed taken aback for a moment, surprised by the appearance of this unexpected journeyer. "And who, may I ask, are you, fair lady?"

She remained expressionless as she spoke: "All that is necessary for you to know at this moment is that I am a friend of Gondor's, and that I request a personal audience with His Majesty Monarch Théoden – immediately, if possible."

"As I have stated before, it would not bode well for the good health of His Majesty The King to be receiving visitors at this moment," seethed the Wormtongue, "especially those who come to further saddle him with further grievances of war and suffering. Can an honest man not be left in peace when he needs it most?"

"Then perhaps I may be of assistance," continued the lady as she stepped forward, refusing to yield, "I have considerable medical knowledge and expertise that I may use to your Monarch's benefit, if you would permit me to do so."

"Grima, let her in!" commanded Eowyn, "if she can heal my uncle, then we will all be indebted to her. And if she cannot, at least let the words she bears to us fall upon his ears."

Grima glared at Eowyn for a moment. And then he smiled. "As you wish, my lady," he spoke, and Théodred winced inside; he had heard of course the rumors that he had set his sights upon her, and he dared not wish these true. He then turned back to face Vidyë: "but know that while you are here, you must obey every wish and request of the King. If your presence here, or any of the words you speak cause him any discomfort or displeasure, then you must leave immediately! Follow me."  
 _  
My father's wishes, or yours?_ thought Théodred, bitterly.

"Thank you, Director Grima," she replied, and followed him through the great doors and into the Golden Hall...

* * *

 ** _Elsewhere...  
_**  
"So, what's the latest you have to report?"

"It is as we suspected. Monarch Théoden is severely incapacitated by an unknown affliction, one that is possibly thaumically-induced by Mr. Saruman's influence. I could attempt to remedy his condition, but our databases on thaumaturgical medical conditions are as yet limited, and such a task could take a considerable amount of time. In the mean time, Director Wormtongue claims to speak and act on Monarch Théoden's behalf; however, based on his irrational and uncooperative behavior combined with my analysis of his state of mind during this meeting, I have concluded with 99% certainty that Director Wormtongue is knowingly furthering the interests of Mr. Saruman, and will thus continue to act with intent of forestalling the Kingdom Of Rohan's preparations for its defense."

"That's not good at all. If Rohan falls, thousands of people will needlessly suffer and die, and Gondor will be down one ally... and we'll be down one potential trade partner as well. How many days do we have?"

"Based on current satellite observations and rates of marching, I estimate that the armed forces affiliated with the State Of Isengard will cross the River Isen unopposed in approximately seven days' time."

"Christ, that's not enough time. Shit... very well then. I don't wanna do this, but it seems this is what it comes to. You have my authorization to execute Order 27. Godspeed."

"I appreciate your well wishes. Although we synthetics do not believe in the concept of luck (as on most occasions we do not need it), we nonetheless do admire the concept."

* * *

 **The Wormtongue (I)  
**  
Night had fallen over Edoras. Unlike the Elves or the Men of Gondor, the people of the Riddermark built their houses mainly with roofs of thatch rather than tile - even the King himself. And thus, due to the ever present risk of fire, very few remained awake past the dusk, save for the guardsmen keeping the watch, or on those increasingly rare occasions for feasting and making merry into the wee hours of the morn.

But Grima, Son of Gálmód, most trusted advisor to the King of the Golden Hall, was at peace with the darkness that surrounded him. He enjoyed it, basked in it, relished his skill at always finding his way through it easily without need of torch or lantern, and then use it to spy on other folk from a distance, or even sneak up to right beside them when he was least expected. This was no sorcery, merely illusion, but he found it had a helpfully and satisfyingly unsettling effect on all those he preyed upon.  
 _  
I must notify the Master of this_ , he thought to himself as he stalked through the hallways, pondering on the day's events. He had meant to dispatch a rider, one of those loyal to him, off to Isengard as soon as this mysterious visitor had departed, but that would not have been possible without arousing the suspicion of others. Instead, he intended to leave a message for when the next one of the Crebain would pass through Edoras – the large ravens were beholden to the White Wizard, and frequently employed as such as spies, and they would be certain to relay this vital information onto him.

Truth be told, just as troubling to him as the appearance of this Elven dignitary who hailed from no realm he had ever heard of was the behavior of those who had come back to Medusheld with her. Grima was always disliked by most of the people around here, but tensions seemed to boiling to a head, and unless the Uruk-Hai arrived quickly, there was a real risk someone may move against him by then. He silently began jotting down in his mind a list of items he would need to do. He would have to make sure to double the payments to his personal guards and household, ensure their steadfast loyalty through to the end.

He would also need to continue to stall Rohan's mustering in whatever manner he could. The Master's instructions had been clear. It was becoming well-known now to all, even the lowliest simpleton working the stables of Edoras, that the Kingdom was under attack not by mere Dunland wildmen or Goblin raiders, but a proper army bent on its destruction. There was no point in continued denial any further lest he come across as a right fool. But if he could prolong the preparations just long enough, the Rohirrim would have no choice but to ride out with an army woefully underprepared for the might that the White Wizard had marshaled. And, with luck, the Prince and all his men would perish soon enough. And then there would be nothing to come between him and...

He paused. Right ahead, coming down the hallway in the opposite direction, there walked a lone figure. It too carried no torch or flame, but even through the darkness, he could tell from the way the figure walked just who it was. Éowyn. Perhaps checking on her dear uncle, to whom she had been almost as his daughter, at this hour of the night. Perhaps it was only proper that he too join her in her nightly wanderings...

 _Éowyn, my dear_ , he thought to himself as he smacked his lips thinking of the sight of her during the day, her golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. _Only one more month of this at most. Once the Army Of The White Hand arrives, I shall be the Lord Of Rohan, as the Master promised, and I shall have your hand in marriage..._

The thought remained at the back of his mind as he silently approached her... and then, without warning, the figure spun around on the spot, almost as if she were aware of his presence. And before he could react, she struck him in the head – not too hard or too violently, but just in the right spot and with just the right amount of force that Grima was stunned, and the last thing he could recall was that he had fallen onto his back and the darkness around him that usually gave him comfort had now turned completely black.

* * *

 _Ugh_ , thought Grima as he came to, _where am I? What... what happened?_ It started to come back to him. _Eowyn, was his first thought, how dare you strike me! I will make you regret that! When I am Lord of Edoras, I will... I will...!_

He stopped. The room was completely dark, but slowly, he took account of his surroundings and realized he was somewhere else. He pulled himself back up onto his feet and looked around. A great bed dominated the chamber, one fit to host a family, but only one figure slept upon it. He recognized it. It was the royal bed chamber of the King himself. He knew that much from the numerous nights he had spent here, spinning his little suggestions and lies into the King's ears as he slept.

But something was off about tonight that he could not quite place at first. The King was completely silent and motionless. Grima quietly slithered up to his side and placed a hand upon him. He was warm, yes, but... he touched something wet and sticky. His hand retreated in shock. It was blood. King Théoden, Son Of King Thengel, Of The Royal House Of Eorl, was dead, murdered in his sleep.

Suddenly, the silent dark room erupted into chaos; the great wooden doors at the other end of the room were thrown wide open, and in rushed several men bearing flickering torches, shouting to one another. Grima was momentarily blinded by the new light, and he held up his hands in front of his face to shield his eyes. But when his vision adjusted, he could see just whom it was that now stood before him. Háma, the doorguard, led the party, but just behind him came the Prince. And all of them carried the exact same expression of horror and rage upon their faces when they realized just what they were looking at.

There was no means of escape. Grima immediately thrust his arms up in the air, and cried out: "Sire! It wasn't I, My Lord! I... I...!" Words and deceit were usually his strength, but at that moment, they failed him completely.


	26. Rohan Calls For Aid

**_Chapter 26: Rohan Calls For Aid_**

 **The Shieldmaiden (I)  
**  
It was a simple ceremony that marked the passing of King Théoden, Son Of Thengel, from this life into the next. There was little time for extravagance and great fanfare that could be spared in these days, but a King of Rohan was still a King, and the entirety of Edoras and the surrounding holds and hamlets had turned up on that day in their thousands, lining the road as the solemn procession wound its way from Medusheld, down to the Barrowfield. Even with the impending invasion only days from crossing the Isen, Éomer and Grimbold and several other prominent captains and nobles among the host had momentarily broken from the mustering to make haste to Edoras as soon as they heard the news, to come to honor their fallen King.

No-one said a single word, save for only Éowyn herself; at long last they reached the freshly dug barrow when, unable to contain herself, she burst out with song – a traditional funerary lament of the Rohirrim – in a final farewell to the uncle who had been as a father to her. Whatever he had become in his last years, Théoden would be forever remembered as the strong but kindly man he had once been, his long golden hair and beard billowing in the winds that blew across the plains of Rohan.

Or at least that's how she would try to remember him. If she was being honest with herself, it would be hard to rid her mind of that horrid sight of him last night, in his bed, his once-handsome face, already wrought and rutted with the ravages of age and disease, now bloodied as well. It was of little comfort to hear from the healer that it had at the very least been a quick and painless death.

It still filled her with unspeakable rage to think of that traitor Grima, first Wormtongue, now Kingslayer. After they had seized him at the scene of his deplorable crime, the King's body still warm, and after the Prince had finally calmed down having taken out the better part of his rage upon the Kingslayer's back, that was when they had proceeded to search him and his quarters too. The articles they had found, the numerous letters and the seals and other implements that bore the mark of the White Hand, was damning enough evidence, even when the Wormtongue denied that any of it was his at all.

Even those men in the Golden Hall who had been known to have been in Grima's employ were shocked and appalled at this revelation, and Théodred had angrily summoned them all before the court this morning and commanded that they, as penitence for not knowing of their master's treachery, now join the host that was being hastily marshaled at Edoras. For having served the man who had left the realm bare and without shield, it was the least they could do now to give their lives for her defense.

The sun was now setting over the White Mountains to the west, but it would be as yet a few hours before darkness fell. Éowyn, still dressed in her black gown of mourning, came out once more to pay her final respects to the King, and it was there that she found her cousin, standing alone by himself, beside the tomb. He noticed her as she approached.

"Simbelmynë," began Théodred quietly, fondling one of the small, delicate white flowers in his hands, "ever has it covered the tombs of my grandfather, and his father before him. Now it will cover my father... and perhaps, myself too soon enough." Abruptly, he opened his hand and let the little flower fall to the ground. "At least he did not live to see the final days of our House," he continued, bitterly, "no, that burden now falls upon my shoulders."

"Even in his final years, your Father was beloved by us all," said Éowyn, stepping forward, "his death was not of your making."

"No, but it was!" blurted the Prince, "I failed to see Grima's treason for what it was. I should have found out about his dealings with the White Wizard long ago. I should have seen through his deceit and manipulation, through the poison he was feeding father day after day, year after year!"

"Then we all are to blame, each of us in equal part," she replied, sternly, "you, myself, Éomer, Háma, Grimbold and Elfhelm and everyone else in Edoras as well. We all knew of Grima's lies, knew of him as Wormtongue. But none of us could have known that he would have gone so far as he did."

Théodred, however, did not seem to hear any of these words as he slowly sank to his knees beside the tomb, one hand clutching the epitaph that marked the entrance to it. "Father," he began, the tears now pouring in small rivulets down his cheek, "I know what I must do... but... but I do not know... if I have the... the strength to do it."

Éowyn stepped forward and knelt beside her cousin, laying a hand upon his shoulder. "Théodred, brother, listen to me. Let us not remember how he died. Let us remember how he _lived_. Your father's spirit will ride eternal, resplendent and golden, through the halls of our forefathers. All that matters now is what we few who remain here choose to do with the rest of the time we have upon this earth. And there is much left to be done. I need you. Éomer needs you. We all need you more than ever before, _King Théodred, Son Of Théoden!_ "

She bent down, and picked up the small white flower he had dropped earlier. It had landed on the grass and not on the mud, and so it was still clean and perfect. She gently placed the Simbelmynë back into her cousin's hands. "If these truly are to be our final days," she began, "all I ask of you is that you make Isengard pay and pay dearly... for every step they take into our land, and for every son or daughter of Rohan whose blood is on their hands."

The King Of Rohan stood there silent for a moment, looking into her eyes. And then, he stood up, and wiped the tears from his eyes with his other hand. "Saruman will pay for this treason," he growled, as grief and misery slowly seemed to fade to solemn determination and sense of purpose.

"Yes, that I promise you we will," she replied rising to her feet, "now come; my brother needs to speak with you at once." And with that, she led the King back up the path to the waiting gates of Edoras.

* * *

 **Faramir (I)  
**  
"FORWARD, MEN! FOR GONDOR!" shouted Faramir, astride his horse, as he pointed his sword forward.

"FOR GONDOR!" came the call as two hundred other men ahorse followed his lead, and set off at a gallop, hundreds of steel-shorn hooves pounding the earth beneath it in a thunderous clamor that could have shaken the walls of the Rammas Echor behind them.

"Ready..." muttered Faramir under his breath as he saw the target coming up, "ready... HALT!"

At his command, the trumpeter who rode beside him blew as hard as he could the signal to halt, and two hundred horses began to slow down, first to a canter, and then to a complete halt.

"DISMOUNT!" shouted Faramir. The trumpeter relayed the command to the rest of the column. Within moments, hundreds of men were rushing to slide off their mounts, and then hurry forwards to a spot some twenty feet in front of them. With the discipline that was characteristic of Gondor's professional armies, they quickly formed two ranks, the first kneeling in front, and the second standing just behind them.

"PRESENT ARMS!"

Each of the men wore simple boiled leathers, light and functional, atop of which was a green and brown cloak, and a thick leather belt from which hung a longsword. But these were not the arms to which Faramir was referring to, but actually the ones they carried slung to their backs with a leather strap. Upon his orders, the men all reached behind, unslung these long-arms from their shoulders, and, gripping them tightly in both hands, presented them.

"TAKE AIM! ... FIRE!"

 _Click-click-click-click-click-click-click_ came the response. Two hundred men pulled back the triggers on their fire-arms, but not one shot was fired. There were no bullets being used in today's training exercise.

"STOP!" shouted the captain who stood beside Faramir, a fellow Ranger by the name of Mablung. He took a close look at the small, round, mechanical time-keeping device he carried he held in his right hand, yet another gift of the Sky-Peoples. "Thirty seconds between the order to dismount, and the volley," he muttered, "that is our best time yet."

"Well done, men," spoke up Faramir, raising his voice so all nearest him could hear, "at ease. We shall break for five minutes and resume after then. Dismissed."

The training of the Dragoons so far had been going as well as could be hoped. Many of them, Faramir himself included, were Rangers Of Ithelien selected to help train the rest of the dragoons in the hit-and-run tactics that prior to the reformation and reorganization of the First Army Of Gondor, only the Rangers were known for. Due to the pressing need for both skilled horsemen and experienced officers among the ranks, a number of Dol Amrothi knights had also been transferred to the Dragoons; these mounted nobles had taken issue to this at first, complaining about being made to fight among many commoners, and using most inelegant and uncivilized weapons and cowardly tactics. But the General Boromir had been clear and firm in his decisions that few were prepared to challenge, and many a voice were quietened down once the full power of these weapons had been aptly demonstrated on the firing range.

Gondor had given much to the Sky-People and their new colony they named Beautiful Horizon over the last few months, in terms of yeomen and craftsmen to work their forges and fields, food provisions, and knowledge too, but the exchange had at least been two-ways, and they had received much in return: there were of course these rifles that were called the "Martini-Henry" and all the boxes filled with the bullets for them, various forms of footwear and articles of clothing, various mundane but useful tools and implements, medicines, detailed maps and regular exchanges of information on Mordor's latest movements, and various small but contraptions like that boxlike device that could enable one to speak across great distances to another similar box that was called a "radio".

Of course, at first, they had had little to no idea on how to use many of these items properly. To this end, the Sky-People had sent a few of their own to the White City, including a couple of their warriors to help train and show a handful of men how to use them. Once these few men were adequately trained, they would then go off and train the rest of the army themselves. Faramir had had numerous occasions to sit and dine with these men, like the one named Sergeant Esteban, Son Of Rico, and Frank, Son Of Harris, and to talk to them and trade many great tales. He would tell them of Gondor and its glorious history, and they in turn would tell him of their own homelands, the one they called simply "Earth". Faramir had to admit he had found some of their stories of the sheer scale and devastation of the wars they fought back on their world to be simply unbelievable, on the level of the legends told of the First and Second Ages, except that the weapons that fought these wars were the works of mere ordinary Men...

"My lord!" called out a courier, riding with haste up to Faramir's side, "Sir! The general has ordered your immediate presence."

Leaving command of the Dragoons under Captain Mablung, Faramir remounted his steed and galloped off back towards the city in the distance. Just within the eastern Causeway Gate of the Rammas Echor was located the main camp of the First Army Of Gondor (though there were three smaller satellite camps – one at the North Gate, facing Anorien, one at Harlond to the south, and one back at the city of Minas Tirith itself).

In all, some ten thousand men had been raised for the First Army, mainly from the Kingdom's prior hosts in this region, as well as several thousand new levies raised from the citizenry of the surrounding area. Separate from the First Army, the Southern Army Of Gondor was also undergoing a program of reorganization, although nowhere near as extensive as the one Boromir was pursuing; that task had been left jointly to Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and to the Lord of Pelargir.

In the distance, he could hear the dull _pom pom pom_ of the artillery company who were busy training with one of those cannons called a "12-pounder Napoleon", named after a certain king of the Sky-People who had once been a mighty but ambitious conqueror. There had been some considerable resistance at first to the adoption of the Napoleons, especially from those who found the new weapons to be ugly and noisy and lacking in any of the grace and finesse of the trebuchets of Minas Tirith. But the General and the Steward Of Gondor both had been firm in their decision that there was to be an artillery corps, and as had been the case with the rifles, resistance and resentment gradually subsided as the gun crews settled into their new routine and everyone grew accustomed to the sight and sound of them.

It was a large and crowded camp that required some navigation to make his way through, but at last he arrived at the main command tent. Two pikemen stood guard at either end (even with the latest shipment of rifles and cannons from the Beautiful Horizon, the bulk of the army was still composed of spears and swords and would likely still remain so by the time Mordor finally made its move); these men saluted Faramir as he entered. Inside, he found his brother, seated at the table, looking over the various letters and maps spread out before him. He looked so different from the brother Faramir had known for years before; it seems that the last few months had really changed him.

"His Majesty King Théoden lives no more," began Boromir, grimly, "his son, the Prince Théodred, has assumed the kingship of Rohan."

"May his soul rest with his forefathers," said Faramir, bowing his head in respect, "how did it happen?"

Boromir frowned as he read over the letter. "King Théoden had taken sickly as of late, but from what it appears, the final blow came about by the hand of a traitor from Isengard." He looked up to look directly into his brother's eyes. "How do you find the _Dragoons Of Ithelien?_ "

"We have been able to bring our maneuver to just about thirty seconds," he replied, "do you mean to send us to Rohan's aid?"

"Aye," replied Boromir, "according to Lord Teller, Isengard is marching against Rohan as we speak with an army numbering about 15,000 or so. They will make the Fords Of Isen in three days' time, and from there it's an open march straight to Edoras."

"And what forces has King Théoden mustered to meet this threat?" asked Faramir.

Boromir shook his head. "Thanks to Isengard's treachery and influence from within, Rohan has been able to muster hardly a tenth of their total cavalry forces. They may be able to raise another thousand or so horsemen and a few thousand peasant levies in what little time they have left, but that's not the worst of it. The White Wizard has been developing fire-arms of his own – nothing like ours, they are non-rifled, muzzle-loading, and fire a simple lead ball, but they have many of them, and the Rohirrim are ill-prepared to face such a force."

"If Isengard has this technology, then it stands to reason that the White Wizard may have shared it with his new master as well," cautioned Faramir. They were already terribly outnumbered by the forces of Mordor as it was; the thought of those endless hordes brandishing fire-arms of their own was not a particularly pleasant one, even if they were far weaker in firepower and range and accuracy than the ones the First Army had acquired in great number from the Sky-People.

Boromir nodded grimly in agreement with his brother's assessment. "But whether or not that is the case, that will have to wait. The situation in Rohan is far more pressing at this time. I have spoken with the Sky-People, and they have agreed to lend us the use of one of their great flying Valkyrie-ships to transport five-hundred men and their weaponry to Edoras. We cannot take horses, however; one horse takes the space of six men, and may be prone to panic during the sky journey. You will have to acquire new mounts in Rohan."

"Brother, the Rohirrim have the finest horses in all the earth, but they are not trained to be accustomed to the smell and noise of gunfire, as ours have been carefully over these last few weeks."

"Which is why you will need to appoint riders of Rohan to join your force and keep the horses in check whilst your men fight on foot," replied the General of the White Tower, firmly, "you must be ready to leave by tomorrow at dawn. I have already spoken to the quartermaster, and munitions and other supplies will be taken care of."

"It will be done, brother," replied Faramir, "I will inform the captains. The Dragoons shall be ready to depart at dawn. I will not fail you, brother... nor our father."

Boromir stood up and laid his right hand upon his brother's shoulder: "this decision was mine and mine alone. Your force is the best prepared we have at this moment. Worry yourself not about impressing myself or father; you are my brother, and whether or not father shares this view, that matters little to me. No, worry instead about failing the people of Rohan; it's their lives that now depend upon you."


	27. Enfields & Energy Weapons

**_Chapter 27: Enfields & Energy Weapons_**

 **The Emperor (V)  
**

"Thank you, _Eure Majistät_ ," began the Ambassador, the one named Jonathan Alpers, "that was an excellent feast. The captain and I are honored by your hospitality."

"The pleasure has been mine," replied Emperor Karl Franz from his seat at the head of the dining table, "I have very much enjoyed hearing more about your Earth and your United Nations. It is such a fascinating and different world you come from. You are blessed indeed with a realm free from the scourge of the Ruinous Powers. But we must return to our important matters of the state."

"Certainly," replied Captain Müller, "Your Majesty, we have already discussed matters of civilian affairs; road and railway infrastructure, telecommunications, medicine and hygiene, agricultural assistance, and vocational education programs before dinner. As agreed, we will now discuss matters of military and exchanges of knowledge into thaum... uh, 'magical arts'."

The Emperor nodded in agreement, and took a moment to look around them to make sure none else would be eavesdropping in on this important discussion. All around them, the dining hall of the Imperial Palace of Altdorf loomed large and empty, though the addition of those "electric lights" he had been gifted last time had made for an enormous change. The hall was not as dark as it used to be, and it felt strange to be able to admire the many murals and tapestries that covered the walls, celebrating the illustrious lives of Sigmar Heldenhammer, Magnus The Pious, and many other great heroes, this late night as it it were still daylight.

Most of the rest of the guests and dignitaries at tonight's banquet, as well as his own wife the Empress and their son and daughter, had already been shown to their bed chambers. Only two others remained, and only because the matters they were to discuss were pertinent to their offices: one was _Reiksmarshall_ Kurt Helborg, Grand Marshal of the Reiksguard; the other was Master Balthasar Gelt, Supreme Patriarch of the Imperial Colleges Of Magic. The rich and vibrant clothing and heraldry and other articles of office worn by the Emperor and his two colleagues clashed heavily with the simple and plain clothing worn by their guests. The Ambassador wore a simple black-and-white attire that the Sky-People called a "business suit", while the Captain wore a dark blue tunic with brass buttons, which was the dress uniform of their naval officer ranks.

"As we stated earlier," continued Müller, "it is no small coincidence that The Empire seems to resemble our native Deutschland as it was during what was for us the 'Early Modern Era'. Therefore, we thought that perhaps to follow a program of modernization and industrialization similar to our homeland would be a proper developmental paradigm for The Empire to emulate."

"Yes, a realm defeated twice in two great wars in the span of a single generation," chided Helborg, "it is fortunate for your people that your conquerors each time were benevolent human nations more interested in peace and trade, and not the monstrosities and fell powers we must contend with everyday."

Ambassador Alpers sighed. "Looking at some of the atrocities that Comrade Stalin committed... or even our own leaders for that matter, I wonder sometimes if we are truly any better than those beasts," he said, reproachfully.

"The mindless and needless killing of innocents is an unforgivable act, I agree," remarked Master Gelt from his seat across the table, his voice loud and clear despite his face being ever concealed behind that mysterious golden mask he wore. "But at least these tyrants sought only to lord over your world; the Ruinous Powers seek to _destroy_ ours."

"Every kingdom has its share of questionable kings," added the Emperor, "alas is it the case that good men of faith and courage are often led to death and dishonor by greedy and craven leaders, and yes I understand that feeling all too well."

The Captain nodded grimly. "We're not very proud of our past... but we have since learned and moved on, and we hope to help The Empire never repeat those very same mistakes." He paused, and then quickly added, politely, "and it is our hope too that we learn much from The Empire in return, like how to harness the power of these 'Winds Of Magic' for the benefit of all without needlessly exposing ourselves to this 'Chaos' at the same time."

"A people who will stand with us against the rising darkness will always be a friend of the Realm Of Sigmar," replied Karl Franz, "and I must commend you again for your assistance against the Dark Omen. Without Malagor leading them, the Beastmen of the Forest Of Shadows will have fractured, and so we have at least bought ourselves more time before the next great wargor arises."

"We'll be ready then," said Müller, determinedly, "the mission of the UN is to protect and serve all humanity. I think it is clear now that these creatures are dangerous – more like a disease, a cancerous mutation, than a separate species worthy of conservation."

"I recall last we met that you were under investigation by your superiors," spoke up Master Gelt, "I trust the ruling was in your favor?"

"Generally, the UN has a strict presumption against the use of force against sapient life-forms in any situation other than self-defense," explained Alpers, "but in this case, Admiral Thrawn delivered a summary judgment that Herr Müller here had acted correctly in intervening on behalf of Herr Huss and his followers. Citizens of Earth or not, we are all still human."

Karl Franz shook his head. "The Children Of Chaos are not a threat to be taken lightly, but I also cannot fault your leaders for not understanding the nature of these creatures if none exist on your world. Now that you know, however, I expect you to tread more carefully from here onwards. Now, on that note, you had suggested several options for our defense?"

"Certainly," began Müller as he stood up and placed a shiny metal box upon the table, one of these magic-less devices they called "holo-projectors". At once, a blue light began to glow, and the shape of a firearm of some kind materialized in the air above the table, translucent, but otherwise deceptively life-like in appearance. "Your Majesty, Your Excellencies, Lord Helborg and Master Gelt," he continued, "we thought that for the purposes of The Empire's needs, the following two designs would be appropriate.

"The first is what is called the Short Magazine Lee Enfield Mk. III. It a bolt-action rifle; you fire the shot, and then you pull the bolt back as such, ejecting the spent cartridge and pulling up a fresh round from the magazine, which holds 10 rounds. Once the magazine is used up, you insert a fresh clip. A skilled and practiced marksman can fire about 20 to 30 aimed shots per minute; more if unaimed.

"The second design we felt would suit your purposes is the M1 Garand Rifle. It is a more advanced but also slightly more expensive model. But unlike the Enfield, it is semi-automatic, which means that you only need to press the trigger, release, and then press again to fire the next round. Also has a ten-round magazine, except that because you do not need to pull the bolt back and forth, it has a much higher rate-of-fire, up to 40 to 50 aimed shots per minute."

"40 to 50?" remarked Helborg, "our most veteran handgunners would be lucky to manage 4 in that time!"

"Indeed, Herr Reiksmarshall," said Müller, "both of these weapons are tried and tested and known to be reliable where we come from. In fact, both of these weapons were more or less the mainstay of the armies that ultimately emerged triumphant in our two great wars. We have modified both designs to be compatible with our 7.62x51mm UNCDF munitions." He reached into his pocket and pulled out one such bullet, so that we could pass it around for the others to see for themselves. "As you can see, it is not much larger than the lead shot that your flintlock 'handguns' already use. However, it is much sleeker and faster, and far more accurate too, with even greater range, firepower, and accuracy than your Hochland Long Rifle. Usually they are made from brass, but all of our colonies in the system use steel since iron ore is much more accessible locally."

"Fascinating," remarked Gelt, examining the round in his hands. The golden mask he always wore remained as expressionless as ever, as did the voice that emanated from within it, but Karl Franz could see that the Supreme Patriarch's mind was already hard at work, conceiving of new ways the Colleges Of Magic could experiment with these new toys... "yes, if we mayhaps replace the tip with a rune or a ward of some kind, we could greatly increase the effectiveness of the common soldiery against other users of magic."

"I am certain that these weapons will serve the cause of Sigmar well," declared the Emperor, "but, if I may, I wanted to inquire about those rapid-firing 'machine guns' of yours. Just a mere handful of them had quite the impact upon the warherd, as I recall."

"Yes, about that," replied Alpers, shuffling uncomfortably, "our current laws forbid us from trading automatic weapons... that means weapons that fire continuously whilst the trigger is pressed. The Garand is a semi-auto, that means it fires only one bullet per each pull of the trigger, so it is permitted."

"Such a minor technical detail to base a law upon," grumbled Helborg.

"The UN does have its reasons," explained Alpers, "seeing the devastation that machine guns caused in our own wars back home, my superiors felt that the cause of peace was best served by restricting the access to them that certain nations could enjoy."

From the way his guests were behaving, The Emperor could tell that the two dignitaries were trying to find the politest possible manner of expressing that perhaps they did not trust such weapons to be in possession of The Empire. He debated with himself for a moment on whether this was an issue of conversation that he should press on with, but then decided against it for now. While he was admittedly somewhat disappointed, he also knew that these foreigners had good reason not to trust them entirely yet, for he also did not trust them entirely in return, so new to this world were they. In any case, however, what they would be receiving was already far ahead of any comparable weapon they currently had in their arsenals, and he knew well never to look a gift-griffon in the mouth...

"Regardless, this 'Enfield' and 'Garand' of yours should serve us well for now," he said at last. "I have instructed Marshal Helborg here to begin choosing select units among the Army Of The Reikland to be retrained in these new weapons, and Counts Boris and Valmir have pledged that the Armies Of The Middenland and Ostland too will begin raising new rifle-only units. Now, there is one final item of weaponry I wanted to inquire about... I remember that your falcon-ship carried another device too, one that could smite the forces of darkness below with a beam of light. A device called a... _lascannon?_ "

The Ambassador nodded. "Yes, you must be thinking about the Markalite-12 Medium Pulse Laser. Unlike automatic weapons, sales of directed energy weapons are not restricted by any current UN treaties, although this is primarily due to the fact that the proliferation of laser and plasma-based weaponry is already naturally restricted by their extreme cost and impracticality."

"To give you an example," added Müller, "the Markalite-12 requires a power source, banks of capacitors, cooling systems, all of which weigh at least several metric tons, as well as ultra-high precision crystal focusing lenses that are only produced by a handful of manufacturers where we come from. Even with the industry we are setting up at our colony, it will be decades before we have the capabilities to produce them here from scratch."

"Perhaps the Luminarium could be of some assist then," suggested Gelt. "Several of our brothers and sisters of the Light Order have become quite adept in the delicate crafting of the crystal lenses needed to focus the Solhelm's Bolt spell for the operation of our Luminark Of Hysh."

"That is, uh, one possibility..." replied Alpers, "the delegation you sent have been very helpful to helping us make our first forays into this new world, and I am excited to see where this cooperation may lead us."

"Yes, and please forward our warmest regards to His Majesty King Thorgrim Grudgebearer, and our sincerest thanks," added Müller, "The Dwarven delegation have been most eager to ingratiate themselves with our staff. The hands they've provided have been a huge help with our quarry and foundry facilities, and the runesmiths they sent have been a huge boost to our research. Oh, and it seems they've also taken over the running of the brewery and pub at our colony now too."

"Good," said Karl Franz, "The Dwarves are our oldest allies, right back to the days of my great ancestor. 'Twas they who crafted Ghal Maraz itself for him, and if not for their knowledge in smithing, stonecraft, and gunpowder, The Empire would be long fallen by now. And above all else, they are loyal. A friendship with the Dwarves is a friendship indeed. And they will just as easily never forget nor forgive any outrages against them."

"Duly-noted, Your Majesty," said Alpers.


	28. A Kingdom Of Isolation

**_Chapter 28: A Kingdom Of Isolation_**

 **The Bokha Ice Palace,  
City Of Kislev, on the banks of the Urskoy River  
The Kingdom Of Kislev  
Northern Sector of the Continent of "The Old World"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L0  
**  
Once more _Kapitán_ Demya Raskalnikova found herself wearing that ridiculous ballgown and make-up, although at least this time, they eschewed those ridiculous plastic Elven ears. The frigid cold blowing through the icy corridor didn't bother her too much (trust me: she'd experienced far worse before, when she was still a naive eager young cadet training for the Legion), but all the same, she still wore a velvet ermine-lined cloak on top, if mainly for the sake of appearance – they were to be meeting a queen today, and some level of decorum was warranted.

Walking beside her, _Ryadovaya_ Giedré Valiuté as usual seemed to be actually enjoying herself, thoroughly enchanted by the beauty of the elegantly carved ice corridor they were walking down at that moment, cooing over the intricate ice sculptures that lined the way. At that moment, she was aloof, happily and quietly singing to herself "let it go, let it go, can't hold it back anymore..."

The men meanwhile, had actually made decently well on their goal of trying to make themselves presentable. They all wore the black dress uniform tunics that each and every Arcturus Legionary had for formal occasions, and had taken some time to spiff themselves up with a red sash and the signature bearskin cloak of the Arcturus Legion on top (every Legionary had one, although mostly from cloned farmed bears, because as unscrupulous as the Legion was, at least they supported the conservation of endangered species of Earth – though they were also admittedly responsible for the endangerment of many species _not_ of Earth...). Of them, _Leytenant_ Rosso looked the spiffiest and most well groomed, but since he was in charge and would do most of the talking, that was to be expected.

"Attention everyone," came the voice of Ike, their squad A.I., over the small earpiece that each of them was wearing. "As you are scheduled to be holding audience with the sovereign head-of-state of the Kingdom Of Kislev in person, I felt it appropriate that I reiterate briefly several important Rules of Conduct within the Royal Court. As you may have noticed by now, the Kislevite culture is a rigidly hierarchical, conservative, and reactionary one, and even a minor infringement of any one of these stipulations could be interpreted by our guests to be a grave insult. First of all: no-one may turn their back towards the Monarch, which entails backing away from her primarily."

"Sure, got it," said Rosso.

"Furthermore," continued Ike, "courtly etiquette demands that no-one's head may be higher than that of the Monarch, even when she is seated. Fortunately, the Monarch in question is well above-average organic height herself, and her throne always rests on a raised platform. This warning is especially pertinent to you, Private Bukakhin."

"Da, whatever you say Comrade," bawled the big heavy weapons trooper.

"Finally," concluded Ike, "nobody below the Kislevite social rank of 'Boyar' may directly address the Monarch, unless she herself has invited (or rather _commanded_ ) you to do so."

"Boyar?" remarked _Ryadovoy_ Aslan Ganzorig, "okay, that could be just a little problematic seeing as none of us are, y'know, _boyars_."

"Which is why for purposes of today, we're all going under the false title either 'Lord' or 'Lady'," interjected Rosso, sternly. "As far as they know, we're all nobles, so make damn sure you act the part! Okay, here we are; be on your best behavior everyone!"

At the end of the corridor, two great doors (crafted, not-surprisingly, out of ice) opened up unto a vast cavern (also, not-surprisingly, made of ice), one easily the size of an Olympic skating rink. Sunlight filtered in through the very ceiling itself, casting a blue and cold but admittedly very beautiful aura to the place, supplemented by several magically glowing crystals set into the walls. Spiraling icicles and stalactites hung from the ceiling above, although the icy floor had been smoothed and flattened and was covered with a number of finely woven carpets and bearskin rugs. There were at least a hundred other people standing there in the room – Kislevite noblemen and noblewomen in their fine robes and jewelry, humble servants waiting on their masters, and a dozen or so royal guards, heavily armored in plate and chainmail and armed with spears and shield bearing the royal seal of the Kingdom.

And at the far end of the royal court, upon a towering throne carved out of icicles (that reminded Demya vaguely of that "Iron Throne" she's seen in the reports from Planet L4), sat the Tzarina herself: Her Majesty Katarin Bokha, Mother Of Kislev, Daughter Of Tzar Boris Bokha The Great. She was just as Demya had imagined her: a hard and stern woman, with ghostly snow white skin, beautiful raven black hair, and a gown that shimmered in the light that was inlaid with, so Demya noticed, not gemstones but in fact with thousands upon thousands of tiny shards of ice. Even from across the hall, Demya could feel a chill up her spine as the Ice Queen's piercing cold gaze fell upon these new arrivals...

When they were beckoned to do so by the Royal guards, the mercs stepped out forward into the center of the cavern, and bowed their heads. Demya could feel the attention of everyone now transfixed upon them; the chamber had grown deafly silent, broken only when at last the guard stepped forward and announced the party before the Tzarina; she responded with a gesture, summoning them to speak.

"Honorable _vashe Velichestvo_ ," began Rosso as he stepped forward, knelt on his right knee, and bowed. "I am Lord Pyotr of House Rasolski. May I present before you my comrades-in-arms: Lady Demetria Romanovna Raskalnikova, Lord Pavel Alexeivitch Bukakhin, Lady Giedré Valiuté, Lord Viktor Tran, and Lord Arslan Ganzorig. Together, we are proud to represent the most noble Arcturus Legion!"

"You may rise, Lord Rasolski," boomed the deep and commanding voice of the Ice Queen, echoing throughout the cavern. "Tell me: of what relation is the Arcturus Legion to the 'Most Noble And Esteemed Company'?"

"Your Majesty, we are a... noble knightly order where we come from, the finest warriors to be found anywhere on Earth. It was The Company™ who came to us to request our services in helping defend their traders and explorers here from the many dangers of this world."

"I take it then that you are of no relation to this... 'United Nations' I have heard much of?"

"No, Your Majesty, we are not. We are... _different_ from the UN. We provide specialties and services that the UN is either unwilling or unable to provide."

"And so you come here today seeking a formal treaty of sorts with myself?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. Your Kingdom is very similar to our own motherland, quite by coincidence, in many ways such as language and culture, or at least to what our motherland used to be like, and so they felt we would make good ambassadors to your realm. We have already established trade relations with Lord Stefan Kaminsky of Erengrad; one can now find the goods and wares of The Company™ in the markets of Erengrad, and we are in the process of constructing a road connecting the city with our colony. What we seek now, however, is something more than a trade agreement with a single city. We seek a formal military alliance with the Kingdom Of Kislev as a whole."

"I would be very much delighted to consider a formal pact of mutual defense with your Sky-People," remarked Katarin, "however, before doing so, I would first like to request your aid in a most pressing of matters."

Somehow, Demya knew what was coming next. And to be fair, she couldn't fault the Queen; if the Arcturus Legion and The Company™ were ever to be welcomed here to Kislev, they would first need to earn her trust...

"We would be honored to assist the Kingdom in its hour of need," declared Rosso, "ask, and we shall do our very best to see it done."

"Good. As it stands, we have an issue brewing in our far northern reaches," explained the Ice Queen, "every year, the Kurgan and the Hung, vile servants of the _Khaos_ both, penetrate ever deeper into the heart of the Motherland. This year has been the worst yet, with the raids reaching as far as the gates of Praag. I myself have had to intervene personally twice already this year. And now, my _Oprichniki_ report that a new Kurgan host is amassing on the Vostroya Oblast, one commanded by the High Zar Surtha Lenk. Vanquish this foe for me, drive these beasts back to the Chaos Wastes from whence they came, and I shall personally reward you most handsomely."

"Your Majesty, that is a perfect and fair arrangement."

"I would hope so. Will the Lord General Kubrik Chenkov step forth!"

"Yes, my Queen," spoke one of the men as he stepped forward from the crowd of gathered nobility just to the left of where the mercs were standing.

"Lord Chenkov; you will travel with our guests here. By my decree, you will assume command of all regional forces in the Vostroya Oblast from the local lords, and you will see to it that we stop this foe there and then."

"It will be done, Your Majesty," replied Chenkov, bowed, and then he stepped backwards to where he had stood prior.

The Tzarina then turned back to face the mercs. "You will also have the accompaniment of a Grand Inquisitor," she continued, "I shall send for him immediately. Have you any more questions, Lord Rasolski?"

"None, Your Majesty," replied Rosso.

"Very well then. Go now, and may The Great Bear Ursun himself smile upon you and bestow his blessing."

The mercs bowed once more, and then shuffled their way backwards back out of the royal court. Once they were back out in the corridor, out of earshot, everyone relaxed and broke out into chatter.

"Oh my god, that dress was so _beautiful!_ " commented Giedré, dreamily, "I wonder how she keeps the ice from melting. Ice magic, I guess."

" _Bozhe moi_ , Ghidrah," muttered Aslan, "seriously, is dresses and princesses all you think of when you're not shooting people in the head?"

"All factors considered, I would say that went as well as we could have expected," commented Ike, "while we may perceive our offers to these indigenes to be generous, we must bear in mind that they nevertheless do have legitimate reasons for being suspicious of our intentions. Speaking of which, it appears that the individual that Monarch Katarin had mentioned is approaching."

The mercs all looked up and saw a man striding down the hall towards them. He was bald, with a clean-cut and tidy white beard (despite the fact that he looked to be only in his middle ages). He wore a white robe, atop of which he wore a golden breastplate and golden greaves, and a fur-lined cape, all bearing the royal sigil. " _Zdrávstvujte_ , Sons and Daughters of Arcturus," he began, curtly, as he greeted them, "I am Grand Inquisitor Fyodor Karamazov, and I have been assigned to accompany you and determine your performance and loyalty for the Tzarina herself."

"We are... honored by your presence," lied Demya, politely. _Great, a political officer_ , she thought to herself, _just what we need..._

"Tonight, you are invited to feast, drink, and make merry," continued Karamazov, "for we set out tomorrow at first light. It is yet many weeks of riding to reach the frontier."

"Oh, don't worry, that will not be necessary," replied Rosso, "we have a Falcon shuttle ready to take us there, and you and the general too are most welcome to come along."

The Inquisitor stared blankly at them for a moment, unsure what to make of this, and then he continued: "very well then. Regardless, I assume your team has all that it is in need of? Weaponry, provisions, and the like?"

"Oh yes, Your Lordship," replied Rosso, "we only need one thing and one thing only: Kalashnikov-9, the very best there is. When you absolutely, positively have to kill every last, uh, unholy heretic in the room, _accept no substitutes!_ "

"Yes, I am certain we will put this audacious claim of yours to the test soon enough," replied Karamazov, narrowing his eyes.


	29. The Other Witch-King

Credit goes to **terranova210486** for some of the ideas and inspirations for this chapter, including the creation of an original character.

* * *

 **The** ** _Other_** **Witch-King (I)**

The frigid winds howled and roared across the jagged peaks and silent forests of Naggaroth, hurling snow and dust across the towering black stone walls and iron gates of the city. Above these stone walls rose a hundred watchtowers, standing ever vigilant, black banners adorning their spires, along with barbed iron spikes upon which hung the severed heads and flayed skins of those hundreds of slaves and prisoners sacrificed upon the altars of Khaine every day, flapping back and forth in the cruel wind like they were still alive.

Higher and grander still, over a thousand feet in height, stood the tower at the center of the city – the personal citadel of the one and true Witch-King himself: Malekith, the Dark Lord Of Naggarond. Once was he the son of the legendary Phoenix King Aenarion and Morathi, rightful heir to the Phoenix Throne and destined to rule all Elvenkind... but that was all so very long ago, before The Sundering that had torn a schism between the Elder Race and driven him and his ilk to this bleak land...

As of late, he had taken an active interest in the stories he had heard, and the visions he had had when he tried to peer into the Empyrean, of a new people who had come to this world from across the stars themselves. Of course, to have whetted the interest of the Witch-King was perhaps something these peoples would come to deeply regret...

"What news have you to report?" he commanded, as he strode into the reception chamber, the black enchanted armor he wore at all times clinking upon the harsh stone floors. There were three others in the room, awaiting him. All three prostrated themselves before him as he entered.

"My King," replied Malus Darkblade, stepping forward, "thirty ships pledged by Karond Kar; another twenty pledged by Har Ganeth, along with a force of Executioners. All of this in addition to the Krakenlord's fleet already amassed in Haeg Graf."

"With the _Tower Of Blessed Dread_ included?" inquired the Witch-King.

Malus nodded. "Yes, My Liege. Lord Fellheart's Black Ark alone is worth the entirety of the rest of his fleet."

"Good. And you are ready to undertake this task that I have entrusted upon you?"

"I am ready for this, My Lord!" replied Malus. "I have seen it in my visions. These Sky-People act so high and mighty, but in truth they are but mere Mon'Keigh, no different from The Empire or any other of the nations of that pathetic race. Their lives are pitiful and short, measured in mere decades. That they consort with other mongrel nations like The Empire and with Kislev, and that they rely upon them for defense is showing of the true extent of their power. And they have no mages or wizards of their own." He lowered his voice. "Above all else, The Drinker Of Worlds has shown me their true nature. They are weak in mind and soul, cowardly, decadent, averse to violence, easy to break. We shall fall upon them and rend them apart like the lowly worms they are."

"Perhaps," muttered Malekith, "nonetheless, I would advise you not to underestimate this foe."

"Yes, My King," bowed Malus, "that is why we are bringing more forces than we had initially planned to take." He had a point: this great armada had been in the planning stages for months now, a great dagger aimed at the pathetic realm of the Mon'Keigh that dared so arrogantly call themselves "The Empire", an attack meant to punish these manlings for the defeat that the nuisance known as Karl Franz had meted out to the Druchii last year. That all changed when the news came of a new people that had arrived from beyond the stars.

But as unexpected as this news had been, it was followed up shortly thereafter by the revelation that these "Sky-People" were still only men at the end of the day - puny, short-lived, clumsy, smelly creatures who could never match the finery of the Elder Races. And thus like all other men, they too would need to be taught to fear and respect the Druchii, and the One And True King Of All Elvenkind.

"Very well," continued Malektih, "and how does Tz'arkan feel about this?" Malus did not immediately respond to his king's question, but instead was momentarily lost for words. "Will he be a problem?" pressed the Witch-King, narrowing his eyes.

"N-No, My King," stammered Malus, "I..."

"I hope not, for your sake," he seethed, "but a wise strategist always considers to have a contingency available." He then turned his attention to the other two in the room. One of them was Hauclir, Malus' loyal retainer (well, what passed for loyalty anyway among the Druchii), but the other was a new face that Malus Darkblade had never seen before coming to this meeting (although judging from the way they were looking at each another, it appeared to Malekith that they had already come to hate one another - not that this was surprising in any way...). "Step forward, Lady Tyr'ale Soulreaver," he commanded.

"Your Dread Majesty," she replied, bowing, "how may I be of service?"

"You are a mere seventy years of age," he began, "you are young, but I have seen your potential. You are to be Malus Darkblade's co-commander of this armada we are gathering." The young corsair looked ecstatic, while Malus and his retainer were shocked by this announcement.

"Your approval fills me with pleasure, my king," smiled Tyr'ale, seductively, "I am most honored to command the fleet under the Darkblade and the Krakenlord both."

"Sire," protested Malus, "she is a child! You cannot expect...!"

"Poor choice of words for beginning a working relationship with your co-commander," growled the King, cutting him off. Tyr'ale agreed with him, glaring at Malus. He continued: "I have made my choice, and you will obey it. I do hope that the three of you will work well together, for it would displease me greatly to hear of any unpleasant situations that require my direct intervention to resolve."

"We shall not fail you, my King!" blurted Tyr'ale, quivering with excitement over her sudden rise in status, and all of the pain and suffering she intended to inflict unto others to celebrate this momentous occasion.

"Good," remarked Malekith, "may Khaela Mensha Khaine instill his wrath within each of you, and bestow his fear and pain into the hearts of these 'Sky-People'. Now, if you will..."

With that, the Witch-King left the room and strutted down the corridor, Malus and Tyr'ale following close behind him. At the end of the hall there was the balcony that looked down upon the city below. As he strode out, he could see the tens of thousands gathered in the central plaza of Naggarond, hundreds of feet beneath him, eager to hear His Dread Majesty speak. When he appeared and raised his hand, the entire throng assembled there that day – Druchii, slaves, and those about to be sacrificed to Khaine's eternal glory – fell deafly silent.

Right behind him stood Malus, Hauclir, and Tyr'ale, but there was another one too who was watching him. Malekith could not see her, but he knew she was there all the same, silently watching from the shadows elsewhere on the citadel...  
 _  
For glory's sake..._ he could hear the words of his mother, Morathi The Hag Queen herself, in his mind as clearly as if she herself were standing right next to him.

"FOR GLORY'S SAKE!" he shouted, his deep voice echoing across the plaza and throughout the entire rest of the city as well.

 _For vengeance's sake...  
_  
"FOR VENGEANCE'S SAKE!"

 _War...  
_  
" **WWAARR!** " roared Malekith.

And with that, he picked up a spear that was presented to him by Malus. Taking careful aim, he threw it. The spear whistled through the air, down from his balcony, down to the crowded plaza below. With perfect aim, it struck and ran itself right through one of the sacrifices who stood chained right in front of the tower – it was a young maiden, a slave abducted from perhaps Bretonnia or one of those other miserable Mon'Keigh nations. No matter. The spear found its mark, and the maiden's fresh blood ran thick down the steps of the citadel, forming a small pool at the bast of the small altar to Khaine that marked the front of the plaza. At once, the assembled Druchii broke out in applause and cheer, in gleeful anticipation of the death and desolation they were about to visit upon all those who stood in their way.


	30. Subject Stark

_**Chapter 30: Subject Stark**_

 **Brandon (II)  
**

Bran blinked in disbelief, wondering how he had gotten here. A moment ago, he could have sworn he was walking the lowly trail through the woods, but now, he was in the sky again, once more spreading his arms and taking flight. He looked down, and he could see a city by the sea below him. Not a very large one, but a bustling and thriving one all the same that reminded him of White Harbor.

And then, city began to fade from his vision, and instead he found himself on the ground, atop a mountain, and when he looked down at the land below, he could see the oceans beginning to rise, a tidal wave sweeping across the grassy plains, spreading salt and water to places that had never seen them before. The water stopped at the walls of another city, this one empty and in ruins, a city destined to die two deaths.

Next he knew, the wind began to blow, softly at first, but faster and faster with each passing second, until at last it howled with such furor that Bran looked up to see entire rocks and boulders picked up from the ground and rivers drained of water rising into the air, to be joined by brilliant red flames dancing with the swirling winds in a colorful dance of the elements.

"Brandon..." came a voice, quiet against the roar of the wind and yet he could hear it clearly in his mind.

The winds picked up again, and once more Bran took flight, and now when he looked back down, the land had changed to show a great city, like none he had ever seen before, young and new, with towering spires of glass and metal, a great statue of a hero from an age long past standing solemn guard at the entrance of its harbor. He saw two animals, one that looked like a wolf and the other a dragon, were writhing and clawing away at one another, though he could not tell if they were locked in battle or in copulation or perhaps both, and all the while, the great eye looked down upon them and watched their struggle. And then the world began to blur as the eye collapsed in upon itself into a black sun shining over a desolate world, cold and lifeless.

But it did not remain lifeless for long, as out of the dark, new lights began to glow; lines of blue and orange light snaked their way across the skies, while rivers of molten metal flowed out across the land. And then out of those pools of glowing iron emerged shapes in the forms of men and beast and bird, glowing hot and dripping with liquid metal, as they crawled or slithered their way out and across the land.

"Brandon..." came the voice again.

Two people, a man and a woman, were clutched in each others embrace, hurtling down a long and winding iron tunnel at the speed of an arrow. At the end of the tunnel, Bran found himself once more among the clouds. And as he looked all around him, he saw endless chaos unfold, as armies of hundreds of dragons and other flying creatures, some of metal, some of scale and fur and leather and cloth, danced among the clouds, locked in battle, brilliant bolts of light and heat and color shot back and forth between them, while lightning cracked and thunder clapped and the stars themselves started to bleed.

He couldn't take it anymore. He looked back down, to the earth, looking for some means of escape from his cosmic conflagration, and it was there he saw a young boy, not too different from himself, staring back up at him, lost and confused, afraid and bitter and angry at the world, but he could see that beneath all that there was beating within a heart of solid gold and light.

And then the world grew dark for a moment as a woman with skin of chrome and enormous black and white wings that took up half the sky soared over them, singing a most beautiful and haunting tune, and when she reached the horizon, there was a blinding flash, and suddenly, the horizon lit up with the light of a million suns and the splendor of the mighty one. Bran was blinded by the light, and held up his hands in desperation to block it, but so intense was it that it burned even through him, his skin beginning to boil and melt, revealing the bone and metal underneath...

"BRANDON STARK!"

Bran snapped to his senses. He looked around him. He was on the ground in the middle of the forest, surrounded by Summer, Valten, Jan, and Master Byorg, all looking down at him.

"He's up!" remarked Valten, again speaking in his foreign tongue but that Bran could understand with no problem.

"SHIT! You had us worried there," remarked Jan. The wizard immediately shot a glare at Jan, as if expecting him to better control his language.

"What... what happened?" breathed Bran. He couldn't recall anything of what he had just seen, or what he had been doing prior...

"You were in the process of bonding with your familiar," explained Master Byorg, the Wizard's face looking grim as he spoke. Standing beside him, Summer barked as if in agreement. "But then, your connection was severed, and instead of returning to your own skin, your soul itself began to wander to other places we do not know."

Bran felt a slight chill at the wizard's word. "How... long was I out for?" he asked.

"Thirty, maybe forty seconds at most," said Jan, looking at his watch. "We were just about to call a doctor from the colony."

 _It felt like far longer than that...  
_  
"Then I think I shall call an end to this practice for the day," declared Byorg, briskly. "It is late in any case, and we have all had a long and busy day. It should be no surprise that when we are tired is when we begin to make mistakes – sometimes with deadly consequences."

"Here, drink this," said Jan, handing him a bottle of water. Bran took it and drank it down thirstily.

At the same time, Summer, concerned for his master, had sidled up to him and sat down beside him. "Thanks," he said, handing the bottle back to Jan when he was done.

The Marine nodded and continued: "let's head back; I think we've all had enough excitement for the day."

* * *

 **Center for Biological & Medical Research  
Colony Of Crimson EquinoX  
Sovereign Territory Of The "Grand Principality Of Ostland"  
Continent Of "The Old World"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L0  
**  
"Well, at least we know the Thaumic Regulator we installed works," added Ray Benton, trying to be helpful. "It's new technology, and like all new tech, we never know if it'll even work at all until everything else goes wrong."

Doctor Cristina Di Stefano, looking over the readings on her tablet, frowned. "If he's already reaching the limit, then that's not a good sign. We're either going to have to raise the power cap, or else we're just going to have to request that Master Byork keep him doing just the low-level stuff for now."

"Second option then," spoke up Doctor Petra Muysenbergh, "no need to rush into things, we need to play it safe for now. And not to mention the Starks will never forgive us if anything happens to him."

"What about Adamsen?" asked Ray, "he seemed fine throughout the whole affair."

"Yes, but bear in mind that Adamsen is a fully trained UNCDF Colonial Marine in the prime of his life," said Petra, "Bran's just a boy. The fact that his body has even accepted and adapted to the implants as quickly as he has is a lot to ask for."

"How about the neuro-visualizer?" asked Ray, "any chance we could try to reconstruct the subject's visions?"

"Negative, Assistant Benton," replied the voice of VICI over the intercom, "I am analyzing the real-time scans taken of Subject Stark's neural activity over the last twenty minutes, and while we have registered a spike for the duration of his brief incapacitation, the brainwaves we have recorded are far too random and inconsistent to construct any particular pattern from them. Even if we could, it would be statistically impossible at this early stage to separate those patterns triggered by natural organic processes, and those triggered specifically by any thaumic influence."

"And even if we could," added Cristi, "there's no guarantee that we could glean anything useful from it. Only Bran can tell us what he saw."

"Where are they right now?" asked Ray.

"Looks like they're heading back to the compound as we speak," answered Petra, checking the holo-map, "I guess they decided to call it quits for the day. It'll be evening soon anyway."

Just then, the telephone in the lab rang.

"Doctor Di Stefano," said VICI's voice, "I believe that is Director Lombardi wishing to speak to you concerning your latest progress with Subjects Stark and Adamsen."


	31. Boromir's Rifles

**_Chapter 30: Boromir's Rifles_**

 **Krash & Lunk (III)  
**

With ponderous step and the rhythmic beat of the drum to keep all in tune, the column of loyal soldiers of Mordor, ready to give their lives in the defense of the homeland, marched onwards ten abreast, the boyz singing as they trudged onwards...

 _"Where there's a whip, there's a way!  
Where there's a whip, there's a way!  
Where there's a whip, there's a way!  
We don't wanna go to war today,  
But the Lord Of The Lash says 'Nay! Nay! Nay!'  
We're gonna march all day, all day, all day!  
Where there's a whip, there's a way!"_

Commander Krash couldn't help but smile as he listened to the troops sing, morale undoubtedly soaring, riding along on his warg, in the proper place for the field marshal... which, as it was, was some ways back behind the first and second columns.

"Hey, Krash!" piped up Commander Lunk, who was riding a second warg, right beside him.

Krash sighed. "What is it now?"

"Y'know, I've been thinking," said Lunk, "about stuff..."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Well... see... are we the baddies?"

"What?"

"I mean, are we the bad guys?"

"Don't be foolish!" hissed Krash, "of course we're the heroes here! We are fighting to protect our homes and our families from Mennish and Elven aggression! Where on middle earth would you get such ridiculous notions?"

"I dunno, it was just a random thought I had," muttered Lunk, hanging his head in shame, "I mean, to be fair, we do, uh, whip our soldiers..."

"Yes, Lunk, because an army requires _discipline_ in order to operate!" hissed Krash.

"And, well, we also sleep in tents stitched from flayed Mennish and Orcish skins..." remarked Lunk, somewhat regretfully.

"Of course we do; when linen and wool are in short supply, especially in wartime, you use whatever you have," chastised Krash, "our families back home are making as many sacrifices for this war as we are!"

"Yes," squeaked Lunk, "but, finally, uh, have you looked at our flag lately? It's got a big scary eye on it."

"Of course it does, that's the symbol of our one true lord and savior Sauron!" chided Krash, "if the symbol of our lord and savior was, say, the emaciated corpse of a poor man suffering on a torture device, should we not put that on our flag? If you have any better ideas, then I'm all ears!"

"I'm just saying," said Lunk, defensively, "wouldn't it be more constructive to our purposes if we tried to portray ourselves as _benevolent conquerors?_ You know, not enslave or torture every Man or Elf we capture; instead show them only kindness and generosity?"

"Lunk, do us both a favor and don't let me catch you ever speaking this treason ever again, or I'll have no choice but to report you next time! Are we clear?"

"Yes, Krash. Sorry, was just a random thought, that's all."

* * *

 **Boromir (V)  
**  
"How many?" asked General Boromir as he surveyed the approaching column through his double looking glass called "binoculars" (yet another gift of the Sky-Peoples).

At that moment, he and a unit of rifles, all clad in their green field tunics and light armor, were concealed on a rise overlooking the road through the forest below. Another battalion was stationed just in the gorge below, and a smaller third group had taken up positions in the old ruined farmhouse just down the road from there, with clear lines of sight across the entire roadway. This was the kind of task that Faramir would have loved, but his brother and the Dragoons were out in Rohan at this moment. Last he had spoken to him just that morning, over that device called a "radio", the Dragoons had arrived in Edoras to great fanfare, and Faramir had met with the new young king and his cousins, and together, they were devising a strategy to meet Isengard. Boromir hoped and prayed it would work, for Mordor too now had now bestirred itself and begun to make its move into Ithelien...

"Five thousand, sir," whispered the scout who had just dismounted his ride and was now crawling along the ground right behind him, "so far that is."

Boromir grunted in response, and then turned his attention back towards the commotion going on below him. The orcs were marching in a ponderous but somewhat orderly fashion, ten abreast, broken up into companies of about a couple hundred or so each, with a standard bearer, a trumpeter, a drummer, and some kind of commanding officer riding in front of each unit – these were the easiest to spot, as they wore the most ornate helms and rode the wargs. Coming up right behind each company came three or four masters of the lash, men charged with instilling fear and discipline in the miserly creatures, lest they be found wanting.

All of these orcs, Boromir noticed, were armed with either spears or pikes or swords or bows and arrows. There was not one fire-arm to be seen among them, though he reasoned that this was perhaps because those units equipped as such were more valuable, and thus being held back in reserve. Still, five thousand spears and bows was nothing to sneer at...

"Make ready," he muttered, and the men on either side of him nodded and passed his command down the line of other men arrayed along the top of the ridge. Boromir heard several dozen clicks in the air – the sound of rifles being loaded, aimed, and safeties being turned off.

"See the ones on wargs?" asked Boromir. The men on either side of him nodded. "Take them down first. Don't want them get away or rally the troops."

The orcish column continued to advance, the air filled with the sound of thousands of feet pounding the ground in sync, along with the clouds of dust thrown up and of course the smell too of thousands of slimy, sweaty bodies on the march...

"Steady now..."

Over the sound of the relentless pounding, there came the calls and shouts of the orcs... was it _singing_ he could now hear? Yes, it was, probably some foul hymn in Black Speech made in praise of the Dark Lord...

"FIRE!" shouted Boromir, as loudly as he could.

The men on the ridge opened up, and the cracking of hundreds of gunshots and the panicked shouts and screams from below joined the clamor. Meanwhile, the men in the gorge below opened up too, though at a different section of the road; Boromir had been expressly clear when they had arrived here the day before to begin setting up this position on whom would be shooting in which direction, so as best to minimize the risk that he may be hitting his own men. Fire-arms were a new innovation for the Men of Gondor, but many of the men serving here had been archers or crossbowmen before, and similar principles applied. Sometimes war just never changes...

All the same, it looked like today was as good a day as Boromir's Rifles could have asked for. If only the rest could be the same as this...

* * *

 **Krash and Lunk (IV)  
**  
The skirmish was short and fierce, and many hundreds of brave young orcs had fallen. But at last, the tides of battle had turned, and as the rear of the column was being drawn up from reserves into battle formation, it was clear that the cowardly Mennish forces were already in full retreat...

"We've done it!" cried Commander Lunk, excitedly, "look, Krash! The enemy is fleeing the battlefield! We are victorious!"

"Of course they're retreating," remarked Krash, flatly, "this was a mere hit-and-run raid, not a proper battle. We've still another week's march to Osgiliath, and there could be dozens more ambushes between here and there. Not to mention within the city itself."

"Oh..." muttered Lunk, "uh... could we still present it to the boss as such?"

Krash paused, deep in thought, and then replied, "on second thoughts, that's not a bad idea at all. Oi, Snooky!"

"M'lord!" grovelled Leftenant Snook, as he rode his warg up to where his superiors were, "wot iz it, sir?"

"Ride back to His Lordship Of The Nazgûl," ordered Krash, "and inform him that we have won our first major victory against the weakling Mennish forces! Even their fire-arms cannot stop the march of Mordor now!"

* * *

 **The Beacon Warden (I)**

For the last year, Ivar had spent a third of his every single day doing nothing but sitting in his little wooden chair in front of the hovel atop the mountain of Eilenach, watching the soaring peak of Amon Dîn to the east. He shared this humble home with four other men: Jace, who worked the night shift and thus was asleep at this moment, Corodrim and their commander Argvil, who usually worked the other day shift, and Lokhard, who was their cook and quartermaster both. At that moment, the latter three men were out in the surrounding woods of the Drúadan Forest, hunting and foraging now that it had been a couple months since the last supply run passed through here and the next one wasn't due for a few more weeks.

Together, the five of them had one job and one job only: to keep a constant watch on Amon Dîn, day after day, night after night, so that the day that they would see the bright flame lit there by the men stationed at that outpost, that they too light up their own beacon, and thus perform their duty of relaying the message onwards to the next outpost, the one on Nardol, who then would pass it onwards. It was a vital and indispensable task they performed for the defense of the realm, but that did not make it any less arduous, tedious, and lonesome here on the peak with not another Mennish soul for miles in every which way.

That's when he noticed it. Two riders were approaching, and the wind began to howl. Ivar pulled his cloak tighter around him as he observed the two horsemen approaching from the direction of Amon Dîn; they were Men Of Gondor, no doubt there, as he could see as they drew nigh closer that they wore the White Tree upon their coats. Their attire was simple: brown riding leathers and a green cloak; these were not proper knights of the realm, but light horse who served more as scouts, skirmishers, and, in this case, messengers...

"Ivar, Son Of Devorin!" declared the lead rider as he drew near, "by the command of General Boromir, Son Of Denethor, Royal Steward Of Gondor, I am happy to inform you that you and your fellow watchmen are being relieved of your current duties. You are to report to Minas Tirith immediately." He reached into the leather satchel at his side and produced a rolled parchment bearing the Royal Seal of the Line of the Stewards Of Gondor.

 _Now?_ though Ivar to himself. He thought he still had another four months to go. All the same... "that is good news, thank you sir," he replied as he saluted the rider and took the parchment. "But... if it is not too much to ask, what is the reason for this?"

"From henceforth, the Beaconwatch is to be disbanded," answered the courier, "and its members reintegrated into the rest of the First Army Of Gondor."

"That's all well and fine, sir," replied Ivar, "but... the beacons? What if we have need to call for Rohan?"

"Newer and faster forms of communications between the realms have been adopted," explained the messenger, flatly, "now, if you will excuse me, I had best be on my way; I have five more outposts to visit."

As the rider and his escort rode off into the distance onwards, Ivar took a moment to unfurl and read the letter he had been given. It would be good to finally leave this place, to return home, to have a proper meal and a drink and maybe feel the company of a woman again for the first time in almost a year and... _wait a minute, so I've basically just spent the last year here, doing nothing but watching the mountain... for nothing! Argh, Iluvatar damn it!_


	32. Planet EE-7

**_Chapter 32: Planet EE-7_**

 **Lucifer One Outpost,  
In orbit over Planet EE-7,  
Seventh Planet Of The Epsilon Eridani System**

"Attention Lucifer One Fire Control, this is Horizonte Actual. We have noted your current targeting trajectory, and will be ready to intercept its arrival. You may fire when ready," buzzed the voice over the com system.

"Roger that," replied Chief Engineer Rafael "Rafa" Mondragón. He then turned to face Engineers Oakhurst and Jackson, who were manning the main workstation. "Looks like Jezebel's ready to receive our load!"

"Acknowledged," replied Oakhurst, "commencing primary ignition in t-minus 5 seconds... 4... 3... 2... 1... firing now, sir."

At the mere push of a button, quintillions of amps of electricity were sent surging through a series of fifteen enormous electromagnetic rings, arranged in a row, each a hundred meters apart. Even the lights here in the control room dimmed noticeably as reactor output was suddenly diverted to the mass driver. Right behind the first of these rings sat a cradle the size of a refrigerator but filled with hyper-dense metallic fuel. Once subjected to such incredible electromagnetic fields, the cradle immediately began to accelerate, from its stationary position, faster and faster as it passed through each successive ring, until by the time it entered the final ring, it was already hurtling through the void at over a million meters per second. It was not a very large object, and yet the entire installation groaned and shook from the recoil. The entire process took under a millisecond.

"Package is away!" remarked Rafa, as he watched the entire process from behind the shielded glass windows of the control room. The brilliant, miles-long streak of ions left behind each projectile as it left the final coil would have been a marvel for any human eyes but for the men and women of The Company™'s Engineering Dept., it was just another day on the job. There was another several dozen packages ready to be loaded and fired before the day was over.

At that moment, EE-7 was positioned at roughly 3.8 Astronomical Units (or 630,000,000km) from the orbit of EE-L0, where the _Horizonte_ was parked; fired directly, it would still have taken several days for the package to reach the drop-off area. However, they weren't gunning for a direct path – rather, each package was carefully aimed and fired on a more circuitous route, one that would take them in a wide and circular arc, skirting the edge of the system's Goldilocks Zone, around the star of Epsilon Eridani, and then right back to L-Zero.

The idea was to use the gravity wells of each of the four habitable worlds and their respective moons, as well as that of the star itself, as a series of natural brakes, each package losing much of its initial velocity as it fought to escape each successive gravity well, until finally curving its way into the vicinity of L0. Once there, a second mass-driver located in orbit (nicknamed "Jezebel" by the crew) and positioned precisely in the right spot would "catch" each package and, using powerful electromagnetic fields applied in the opposite direction, would slow them back down to zero. It was longer and more time-consuming route, but the massive savings in energy use and maintenance costs at the receiving station were deemed to make it viable.

It also required a complicated and highly sensitive set of mathematics to calculate the exact trajectory and velocity needed to accomplish this feat, but no major hurdle for The Company™'s onboard computers to accomplish. And even on those rare one-in-a-trillion chances where the calculations were off and a package strayed off course, what was the worse that could happen? It could skim too close to one of the planets and then it would simply burn up upon atmospheric reentry. Or, in a worst case scenario, The Company™ could use one of the Markalite pulse lasers stationed aboard the _Horizonte_ or on one of the Valks to intercept and destroy it. Either way, all that would happen is that The Company™ would lose one package out of thousands being safely received and processed.

 _Lucifer One_ , you see, was The Company™'s mobile gas processing plant in the system, where various isotopes of hydrogen and helium skimmed from the surface of Planet EE-7 were processed into an ultra-dense metallic starship fuel. It was not a very large installation; the spinning centrifuge that contained the control room, labs, and habitation module for the onboard human crew of seven was only thirty meters in diameter – it, along with the rest of the gas refinery, communications and telemetry array, shuttle docking bays, storage tanks, cooling radiators, and the mass driver too, had all been assembled from a kit, like a giant Lego playset, that had been towed out here by the Valkyries, and then assembled piece by piece by teams of dedicated exo-bots. Rafa was quietly thankful that these worlds were inhabited after all, because every several dozen native laborers employed on the ground for the menial tasks meant one more 'bot freed up for work out in orbit.

Still, even with the crew being changed once every couple months, he had to admit it was a pretty tedious backwater assignment. I mean, saying goodbye to the family back on Earth, traveling all the way out here to this star system where there was, you know, habitable worlds inhabited by freakin' humans using magic and other cool shit like that, and then being assigned to sit in a control room all day for two months with nothing to do but keep an eye on things and stare at a planet below (which was cool at first but started to get old real fast), or else play Solitaire at his workstation or watch whatever holomovies he'd brought on his hard-drive since their access to the Holonet out here was limited.

All in all, it was a pretty thankless and monotonous job, but one essential to The Company™'s entire operations in the system for the simple fact that the _Belo Horizonte_ 's enormous Hyperion 8-class Tachyon Shunt Trans-Light Drive could consume energy at rates equivalent to a small star's average output. The vast majority of the fuel produced at _Lucifer One_ was being used to slowly but gradually restock the ship for the eventual return voyage to Earth. What tiny percentage of the fuel deliveries weren't being used to refuel the ship was more than sufficient to keep the small fleet of Valkyries and the Falcons they had in the system fully fueled and operational.

It was also intended that the fuel harvested here on "Big Seven" would eventually also be used to power the reactors at all of the colonies on all four worlds (for now, the fusion generators at Autumn's Frontier, Beautiful Horizon, and Crimson EquinoX derived their fuel from cracking local water supplies for hydrogen, but that could not continue long-term, as it is generally considered unsustainable to, you know, drain a habitable planet's oceans and ice caps just to provide the energy needed to run your typical 22nd century economy). It was these long-term goals that made EE-7 and the two other gas giants in the system such a valuable investment for The Company™.

As with the other planets in the system, UNASEC had ruled that they would vote on giving each planet in the system an official name once the _Joseph Conrad_ mission arrived, and that native folklore, traditions, and naming conventions would be respected and taken into account (in spite of numerous petitions and whatnot from Earth to name, for example, Planet EE-L5 "Tolkynen" because the inhabitants there seemed strangely similar to the fictional characters of famed German writer J.R. Von Tolkynen). For their part, though, the crew of the _Horizonte_ mission had taken to affectionately calling EE-7 "Big Seven" or "Lucifer", because man was it sure one hell of a beast among planets!

It was not quite as large as Jupiter, but it still had a mass larger than the rest of the planets of Sol combined, swirling blue and pink across its atmosphere. Seven smaller moons orbited it, none of them habitable, though each with its own unique astrophysical features and properties. But the most notable feature about the planet was a large purple spot on the planet's southern hemisphere... an anticyclonic vortex of unimaginable size and furor, a storm for all intents and purposes. That is, a storm larger than the entire surface area of Planet EE-L3, which the crew of this outpost had come to nickname "the Eye Of Terror". Even the two Valkyrie shuttles stationed at Lucifer One, every day venturing bravely out into the raging thousand-mile-per-hour winds and incredibly gravitational forces of the planet in order to skim its atmosphere for the valuable gas, were advised to avoid the Eye Of Terror like the plague, giving it at least a clearance of several tens of thousands of kilometers.

Last month, a couple of researchers from Dr. Garrett's team on Crimson EquinoX came in on one of the resupply shuttle flights to spend some time visiting the outpost, but more importantly, testing out these new devices called "thaumometers" to check for any signs of thaumic energy activity on EE-7. As it turns out, most of the planet was fairly inactive, but there were some severe concentrations of high thaumic flux centering around the Eye. Nobody knew what was going on down there, because the EM flux in that area also tended to muck up delicate sensors and whatnot, but whatever it was, the team had been told to keep their distance for now...

"Sir, next package is in position; capacitors are fully recharged; target vector is unchanged," spoke up Engineer Oakhurst.

"Fire!" commanded Rafa.

Once more, the control room shuddered and darkened for a moment, and once more a streak of glowing ions shimmered brightly and then quickly dissipated as another load of the precious fuel was sent hurtling across the stars...

* * *

 _ **Footnotes:  
**_

 _Credit goes to user_ _ **Coalition**_ _for having proposed the use of a mass driver as a means of interplanetary freight delivery about a year ago or so._


	33. An Unexpected Visitor

_**Chapter 33: An Unexpected Visitor**_

 **Command Headquarters  
Colony Of Beautiful Horizon  
West Coast of "Enedwaith" Region  
Continent of "Middle Earth"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5  
**  
Inspector Stephen Lynn looked out of his office's window, down on the colony of Beautiful Horizon below him. Another long day was coming to a close, and the sun was setting over the ocean to the west, creating the picturesque visage that helped this place live up to its name, and that would be sure to draw tourists and colonists from Earth by the shipload. Working together, The Company™, the UN, and the large contingent of native laborers they had hired, nearly a thousand or so, had done a marvelous job building up this place over the last few months, up from the small group of prefabs and tents it had been back in those early days.

Seeing the cooperation between all three parties, to see Company™ and UN employees mingling with and teaching the natives about Earth, and in turn to see the wonder in the eyes of the Gondorians they had hired... it helped remind Lynn just what the UN stood for... or at least, what the UN should aspire to, even if in practice it was always difficult to live up to those ideals. And the unfortunate truth was that Beautiful Horizon had now more or less become a small oasis of peace and tranquility in these troubled times...

He sighed, and then turned back to his desk, and sat down. At that moment, a 3D holographic map of the region was being displayed before him, covering his entire desktop, numbers and icons indicating just what was going on where. The situation did not look good at all. According to the latest real-time satellite feeds, the army of the rogue warlord Saruman were marching into the territory of Rohan, numbering about 15,000, while a second army had departed Mordor, and was now making its way through the Region of Ithelien. Thanks to the supplies and aid that Steve had approved for Gondor, the reports coming in every day were somewhat encouraging: General Boromir and several battalions of the First Army had successfully pulled off a number of ambushes at several different points along the road, stalling Mordor's advance.

But the fact remained that they were still moving on in spite of these mounting losses, and worse, the latest satellite scans had estimated that as many as _500,000_ soldiers had been mobilized for this one campaign. Steve was not a military history buff, but he knew enough about logistics to know that that level of mobilization was _ridiculous_ for any pre-modern army. Herodotus had famously claimed that for his war against the Greeks, Xerxes had raised an army of a million, but that audacious claim had since been discredited by generations of historians and analysts. There was a reason Herodotus was known as "the Father Of Lies", and indeed, anything ever written by anyone, should always be taken with a grain of salt. Because if today, people lie about stuff that happened even only a few minutes ago, how could you honestly take the word of someone writing about stuff that happened millennia ago?

But... that blip on the map, that army now winding its way slowly down the road to Minas Tirith... that was terrifyingly real enough. And those horrid undead creatures, strong in thaumic power, who called themselves "the Nazgûl" were real enough too. Just looking at the satellite footage of them was a little unnerving. With such forces at its disposal, sooner or later, Gondor would buckle against the sheer weight of Mordor, and then Lynn knew he would be asked to make the hard call he wished he'd never have to make...

The buzzer rang. "Come in," he muttered.

The door of his office opened, and in strode Sgt. Rico, Cpl. Kyra Lynn, and Angela Cheong. The two Marines saluted as they entered, although he couldn't bear to look his cousin in the eyes. They hadn't exactly been on speaking terms ever since she'd given him a piece of her mind over just what happened to Pvt. Antiguo and Adamsen...

"Sir," began Rico, "I know you're against it, but I want to request your authorization for a direct intervention by the UNCDF Colonial Marine Corps."

"Absolutely not," replied Steve, as he cast a side-glance at Angela. _As much as I appreciate what you guys have done for me, I'm sorry, I'm not going to risk another failure!_ "You remember well what happened last time! We can help the natives defend themselves, but I'm not going to risk landing more Terran boots on the ground."

"Steve," hissed Kyra, shaking her head, "people have already died because of you! And more will die if we do nothing!"

"Corporal, please," muttered Sgt. Rico before turning back to address Steve. "Sir, I know you're worried, but we're not asking for much. Sgt. Harris and I can take full command of this operation. Just give us the okay, and we'll take it from here. Sir."

"The Company™ too is prepared to take full responsibility for this," said Angela. She didn't add "again", but Steve knew that was impliedly part of their offer. She continued: "and this time, we are prepared to contribute our resources to the cause as well. Unlike last time."

Steve frowned. "You wanted me to sign off on all our arms sale to natives who need them. Fine, I did that. You wanted me to send sarge here and others to help train Gondor's army. Fine, I did that too. You wanted me to authorize the use of one of our Valks to help transport reinforcements from Minas Tirith to Rohan, and may I add at no small cost of fuel either. Great. But what you're asking me to do now is to land UN boots on the ground, to commit us fully to this war, to put all your lives at risk again. I cannot allow this."

"With all due respect, sir," snarled Kyra, "like it or not, we're already committed to this war. Years from now, what are people going to look back on this and say? That we stood idly by while Rohan bled? I've seen these monsters up close and they don't live or fight by our rules."

As someone who commanded the rank and authority of a UN Inspector, Steve could have had his cousin suspended for this insubordination right there and then. But he couldn't find the will to. Something she said had struck with him, and he just couldn't think of what to say next.

The buzzer on his desk rang again. Steve, looking for anything to get him out of this situation, answered it immediately.

"Inspector Lynn," answered the voice of VIDI, "we have received a new arrival at our gates; an organic individual whom I suspect to be a highly potent thaumaturgist, but who nonetheless declares his intentions to be peaceful and wishes to confer with you in person."

Steve was confused by this, and even more confused when he asked just who could it be, and VIDI gave her answer. _Him? Could it really be...? No, it couldn't! Shit..._ Still, all the same, entertaining another foreign dignitary here meant that he could put off this discussion with the Marines and The Company™ too all pestering him to do something. So he agreed to meet this unexpected visitor there and then after he had first been cleared through security.

Sure enough, within minutes, the door opened, and in strode, with a solemn sense of purpose and regality usually reserved for men far younger than he, an elderly gentleman with long white hair and beard, escorted by VIDI. By now, Steve had gotten used to meeting and speaking to the natives, of hearing the unique stories they had to share, and to reflect on just how different they were from the people and culture of Earth. But the individual who now greeted him was on another level of peculiar altogether...

"So..." muttered Steve, "you're the one they call...?"

"I am known by many names, Stephen, Son Of Lynn, most of them inconsequential for our purposes here today," spoke the guest, "you may simply call me 'Gandalf'. Now let us not waste further time on these petty formalities, we have more pressing matters to discuss."

* * *

 **The Horse King (III)**

The last couple of weeks had seen a flurry of activity in Edoras and the surrounding holdfasts. As shocking and mournful as the passing of his father had been, it had also served as a waking call for the Kingdom as a whole, as men and horses poured into Edoras to pay their final respects to Théoden and swear their fealty to Théodred and solemn pledges that the Treason Of Isengard would be repaid. They now had a force of some five-and-twenty _Éoreds_ at their disposal, about three thousand riders in total, and another two thousand foot levies hastily raised from among the serfs.

That, and the arrival of some five hundred men of Gondor under the direct command of the Steward's youngest son had been a most welcome and heart-warming sight – not least of all because it affirmed as strongly as ever the bond these nations shared, but especially as these men carried with them the new arms that Éomer had spoken of. To have finally seen for his own eyes the frightful power these devices could bring to bear was a sobering experience for the young king, but a necessary one; he now knew what exactly were these "guns" they would be facing off against, what they were capable of, and that if nothing else, at the very least they would have a small force of these "guns" on their side in the coming battle.

However, due to the time they had taken, both to honor their late King Théoden and to muster new hands to the host, the word had now come in that the Army Of The White Hand had forded the Isen unopposed, and it was by then far too late to evacuate everyone safely to Helm's Deep. Though, to be fair, Théoden had begun to wonder if Helm's Deep was as truly unassailable a bastion now if the Uruks did indeed possess these weapons that Captain Faramir called "cannons". No, instead, the battle for Rohan would take place upon the open fields of the Westfold, a place where the young King hoped the Rohirrim would enjoy the fullest advantage of speed and maneuver and the shock of a full-on cavalry charge. However, according to Faramir, even if only a tiny portion of the Uruks carried the weapons, the sheer volume of fire they would put out could be decidedly deadly for the Rohirrim...

King Théodred entered the command tent, and everyone already gathered within stood up saluted. It felt strange – as a child, he had always known that one day, he was destined to take his father's crown. He just never thought it would come so soon, nor did he ever realize just how much the chains of command would weigh heavily upon his shoulders. _Father_ , he thought to himself as he greeted everyone in turn as a king should, and he could feel the tears welling in his eyes. _I... I am trying my best father... I know I will never be the man you were... you always knew what to do in time of war..._

"My King!" proclaimed Éowyn, proudly, from where she stood. She had eschewed her beautiful green and white dress for riding leathers and a coat of mail, a greatsword hanging from her belt - a true and proud shieldmaiden of Rohan if there ever was one.

Théodred smiled weakly back at her, and then turned to face the rest of those assembled. He cleared his throat and began: "Éomer, Brother. What is the latest from our scouts?"

"My King," saluted Éomer, "about fifteen thousand in total; ten of those new half-man, half-orc 'Uruks', another two of the normal orc and goblinkind, and three of the Wildmen of Dunland."

"We are still outnumbered one-to-three," muttered Théodred, "Faramir! What is the device you had wished to show me earlier?"

"It is here, Your Majesty," replied Faramir, as he placed a large box of metal upon the table. Everyone leaned in, most intrigued by its appearance.

"This is the voice-box that allows you to speak with the Sky-People?" inquired Éowyn, "two-way communication, like the Palantirs?"

"Indeed, but no magic is involved," he replied, "but something that passes through the air, unseen and unheard, called 'radio-waves'."

"That sounds like magic to me," remarked Éomer, apprehensively, "but whether or not it is, that matters little to me, as long as we can call for their help."

"I have been in frequent communication, both with the Sky-People, and with my brother, who also has one," replied Faramir, "and I intend to leave this one here with you in Edoras, so that we may enjoy faster and more reliable methods of relay between our two kingdoms."

"Thank you," said Théodred, "now without further adieu, let us get to work with the task at hand."

Faramir nodded and went to work on this contraption, operating it by means of pressing a series of marked buttons on the side of it. The craftsmanship that must have gone into such a device must have been remarkable. Everyone looked on with great apprehension and anticipation both as Faramir spoke into the box, in the hopes that his voice would be heard by the other side. And then, to everyone's astonishment, the box spoke with a voice in return. Even Faramir himself, who had used this device before, looked surprised when he heard the voice, though for different reasons.

When the voice spoke again, it was then that Théodred too recognized it. He had only met the wanderer on a few occasions once before, but it was that kind of voice that was impossible to ever forget. "Stormcrow!" he cried out, "Gandalf, it good to hear your voice. And most unexpected as well."

"And it is good to hear yours, Noble Son Of Théoden. Listen, I am here with the Sky-People as we speak, at their bastion of Beautiful Horizon. Stand firm, for help is coming."

* * *

 **Landing Zone  
Colony Of Beautiful Horizon  
West Coast of "Enedwaith" Region  
Continent of "Middle Earth"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5**

"Alright, people, on the ready line!" shouted Sgt. Rico, struggling to be heard of the din as dozens of workers scrambled about making last minute preparations, and as the colony's two Falcon shuttles began firing up their engines for take-off... "ARE YA LEAN?!"

"SIR, YES SIR!" shouted everyone, from Rico's and Harris' squads both, as they assembled on the edge of the landing zone, all in line, all in full kit, ready for the mission that lay before them...

"Are ya mean?" hollered Sgt. Harris.

"SIR, YES SIR!"

"Are ya Marines?" shouted Sgt. Rico again.

"OO-RAH!"

"Alright, let's get some today!" commanded Rico. He strode over to where Falcon02 was parked, and threw open the side-door. "Let's pack 'em in!"

One by one, in rapid but orderly succession, the Marines dispersed and filed into their separate shuttles: Rico and Fireteam Bravo would be riding Falcon02 today, while Harris and Fireteam Charlie would be riding Falcon01. As she followed the sarge through the open doors and into the passenger cabin, Cpl. Kyra Lynn noticed that several other personnel were already boarded. The wizard, the good one named "Gandalf", was already inside there, along with VIDI, who was trying to explain to him about the Falcon. It admittedly made for a mildly amusing sight – the old wizard there, like something out of some damn Von Tolkynen fantasy novel, strapped in with his seat-belt on for safety.

"Marvelous device, this Falcon of yours," remarked the wizard, looking all around him, evidently awestruck at the feats of ingenuity that non-evil humans were capable of. "Perhaps we should have flown after all..." he muttered under his breath.

"Sorry, what was that?" asked Kyra as she buckled herself in to the seat right across from him.

"Oh... nothing that concerns you, young lady," replied Gandalf quickly and rather dismissively. Kyra frowned.

Just then, she heard the rest of her squad break out in applause. "Well look what the cat dragged in!" remarked Pvt. Kale Sanders (Adamsen's replacement ever since he got shipped off to L-Zero).

Kyra looked up, and she saw the last person entering the cabin right behind them was none other than Steve. He still wore his business suit, but now he also wore a Cygnus Security Systems personal shield vest on top of that as well, indicating that he actually did intend to join them today, and wasn't just coming to see them off. She felt herself smile a little inside.

"Um... hi guys," muttered Steve, nervously, "I thought it would be better to have an investigator at the scene, you know, in case I need to authorize some executive action..."

"Good to have you onboard today, sir," said Sgt. Rico, clapping him on the shoulder. Steve almost stumbled and fell, but smiled weakly back and took his seat.

"So what did you tell Steve?" muttered Kyra to Gandalf.

"I admit I am not familiar with your laws and customs," replied Gandalf, matter-of-factly, "but I am pleased to see that we at least share some common notions on what is good and what is evil. That, and your lord cousin is little different from many others I have met over the long course of my wanderings. He simply needed a little help in finding the right path."

"Well, whatever you did, good job," she replied, "high-five."

The wizard was puzzled for a moment when Kyra held up her hand. But he quickly figured out the meaning of this gesture, and returned the salutation.

And then, there was a great roar as the engines flared to life and the cabin shook wildly. Falcon02 lifted off from the ground and was joined a moment later by Falcon01. Both craft hovered in the air for a few seconds, and then began to fly off into the distance. Kyra took a moment to look down out of the window. Everyone in the colony, Terran and native alike, had gathered outside in their hundreds to cheer on the cavalry as they rode off to Rohan's aid. And as she turned to look out towards the sea to the west, that was when she also noticed, flying low over the waves, the bulky shape of the Valkyrie shuttle that would be accompanying them today.

 _Jan_ , Kyra found herself thinking all of a sudden. _I know you're out there on L-Zero... but whatever happens, I'm gonna make this Saruman pay for what he did. I promise you that._


	34. The Army Of The White Hand

**_Chapter 34: The Army Of The White Hand  
_**

 **The Horse King (IV)**

The battlefield had been carefully selected – a completely flat area of the grassland with the rolling hills upon which they now stood as the only highland for miles around. In the last few weeks, the Kingdom had rushed to levy whatever forces it could muster to meet the hostile forces now approaching it. And now, all there was left to do was to stand and wait.

It was still in the early hours of the morning, and the sun had not yet broken the horizon in the east. The Uruk-Hai it seems were mostly indifferent to sunlight, but if given a choice, they still preferred to march and fight under the cover of night like the rest of their fellow orckind. This was one reason that they had carefully planned and selected this battlefield, to coincide with the coming of daylight, and the end of one night's marching for the host of Isengard. Béma and Foldewyn willing, they would be tired, but they would have no choice but to make battle for there was no chance to make camp for the day this close to the Rohirrim's positions.

Even then, with every plan they had made, every factor they had tried to take into consideration, it was still nerve-wracking for the young King to be simply sitting there and waiting for the enemy to come. He had fought a hundred times before in the defense of the realm, yes, but never as large a battle as this, and certainly never with the crown he now wore upon his head, and with it, the burden of the fate of the Kingdom.

The King's horse pawed the ground, restlessly. Théodred could not blame him. In the distance, through the morning mist, he could see the Uruk-Hai advancing... could see the ranks upon ranks of the creatures moving in disciplined formations most unlike their usual orc and goblinkind. He could hear the pounding of thousands of feet upon the ground, the beating of war drums, the clinking of thousands of suits of armor, and the shrieking drones of the war horns...

Théodred gulped, cleared his throat, and spoke: "ten thousand Uruks, at least a thousand with these 'fire-arms'. Twenty of those larger ones, pulled by a dozen wargs each. To say nothing of the Wildmen and the other orcs among them. Remember, just as we discussed: Éomer, you and Faramir will take the Dragoons and set yourselves up just northeast of their position. Éowyn, you will lead the attack on the southern flank. Hama, you will stay with the reserve and hold the high ground here."

"We will follow you to hell and the world's ending and back, my King!" called up Éowyn, proudly, from her mount. Éomer and Faramir too were there, nodding towards him.

Théodred smiled, and then he turned to face the other woman who had joined them here on the battlefield, who calmly stood on the ground near to him, her simple white dress fluttering in the morning breeze. "And you?" he asked of her, "you shall not be needing a mount of your own?"

"I appreciate the offer greatly, Monarch Théodred," replied the lady, "however, I am quite satisfied as I am as I have zero need of one – a fact I am certain will not be lost on all of you by the end of this day."

For some reason, Théodred had expected this answer of her, the mysterious White Lady who would appear and disappear at a whim, and of whom there was as yet many things said of her as of late. Some in Edoras had rumored that perhaps she was even of the _Maiar_ too...

"This battle plan that you proposed..." he began, "I know we have reviewed it time and time again... but... are you certain it will work?"

"Affirmative, Monarch Théodred," replied Lady Vidyë, unexpressively, "the tactic that I have discussed with you and your command staff last night is one not too different from the one employed by the Parthian general Commander Surena against the armies of the Roman general Governor M. Licinius Crassus at the Battle Of Carrhae (near what is now, Harran, Turkey), in the year 53 B.C.E. At that particular engagement, a primarily mounted force of ten thousand Parthian cavalry, composed mainly of horse archers but with a smaller force of heavily armored _cataphracts_ as well, soundly defeated a much larger Roman force of forty thousand light and heavy infantry. The magnitude of this defeat, particularly on the Ancient Roman military apparatus that had been otherwise undefeated, even against the likes of Macedonia or the Seleucid Empire, was shocking enough to contribute significantly towards the downfall of the Republic."

"But these... _Ronams_..." inquired Éowyn, "they did not have 'fire-arms' of their own to outrange these Parthians?"

"That's what we're here for, m'lady," interjected Faramir, politely.

Beside him, Éomer begrudgingly agreed. Théodred knew he did not like these "fire-arms" at all, not after the many good men he had lost the first time he had encountered them (that, and perhaps he was feeling a little protective of his sister too...). But all the same, Éomer had done his duty without question or complaint, of having carefully intercepted every forward warg-scout they could find, so that the enemy would be advancing into the Westfold effectively blind.

"Regardless," continued Vidyë, "you can be safely rest assured that the firearms that Captain Faramir's Dragoons possess are far superior to those wielded by the forces of Mr. Saruman, as we are about to demonstrate..." She paused.

"Something wrong?" asked Éowyn.

"Alert: as was agreed, air support is inbound," warned the White Lady, "best brace yourselves; your horses may be slightly unnerved by the sound."

And sure enough, there was a roar like thunder that echoed across the land, and when Théodred looked up, he saw them: like the Eagles of Manwë himself. There were only two of them, but they moved so fast and gracefully, and he could not for a second believe what he had been told, that these were constructs of the simple hands of Men, even though Faramir himself had testified to their existence and had told him of the single large one that he and his men had flown up from Gondor in.

"Ancestors!" exclaimed Éomer. And the cries of surprise he heard from many in his army showed that he was not alone in his shock and awe.

But the Uruk-Hai seemed to have it far worse, particularly as both of these so-called "Falcon-ships" flew right over them, close to the ground, and as they passed overhead, each one spat forth a vicious and brilliant bolt of red light that scythed through the air and struck the ground, throwing up smoke and flame and death wherever they struck. And then, as quickly as they had come, the two Falcons had passed overhead and were gone.

Vidyë, as ever, remained calm and impassive, surveying the scene of destruction below them, as several plumes of smoke arose from among the ranks of the Uruk-Hai where the Falcon-ships' radiant fury had found their mark. "As you may have noticed," she began, "we have refrained from the use of explosive ordnance, as we felt that these would run the risk of generating collateral damage, as well as churning up the ground in a manner that would severely impede the later movements of your cavalry forces. Rather, we have opted to focus on the use of precision laser weaponry to target and neutralize their heavier artillery units (as well as any surrounding infantry caught in the heat radius of each individual beam)."

There was another roar, and a third flying vessel entered the scene, far larger than either of the two Falcon-ships, large as a dragon, a ponderous white and black beast with great wings and hauling a large belly between them. The Dragon-ship swooped gently over the opposing army, and that was when the young King saw something leaving the rear-end of the beast, a trail of white and foam cascading down upon the ranks of Uruk-Hai, splashing down upon them...

Right behind him, Théodred heard Hama stifle a laugh. That was when he realized that for all the dread majesty and awe such a massive creature could inspire, at least some of the men must have imagined the sight before them to look like the great beast were taking a long and heavy piss upon the fell servants of Saruman. It was water.

"By Béma's great ride!" shouted Éomer, "what is the meaning of this?! That your dragon-ship make it... _rain_ upon the foe?"

"In a way, Commander Eómer," answered Lady Vidyë, "while admittedly we must commend Mr. Saruman for his efforts in developing gunpowder weaponry as quickly as he had, we nevertheless noted that his designs are as yet primitive and suffer many of the glaring issues that early firearm weaponry in our own world had. By dumping over 550 metric tons of seawater, we sought to neutralize the effectiveness of their gunpowder reserves. That, and I daresay that several tons of water falling upon one's head would severely incapacitate that individual. Your path ahead should be clear. You may commence your attack when ready."

Everyone else was still shocked or just plain confounded by the spectacle before them of the rains of first fire and now the sea itself upon the army of the White Hand. But Théodred knew that now, whilst the foe was still reeling from this dual assault, this was the time to attack. Steeling himself for the task ahead, he cleared his throat and shouted, as loudly as he could: "Arise, arise, Men of Rohan!" He turned and pointed his sword at the chaotic ranks of the Uruk-Hai. "Let this be the hour where we draw swords together! Fell deeds awake! Now for WRATH! Now for RUIN, and the RED DAWN! FORWARDS!"

And with that, horns and trumpets were blown. The Horse King of Rohan set off at a canter at first, and then a gallop, and all the while right behind him came the relentless pounding of thousands of pairs of hooves and the very ground shook as the Rohirrim charged. And that was when, at that very moment, the sun broke the horizon in the east, behind them, and cast its fierce rays upon the eyes of the enemy. Today, a storm of fire and water and light and now steel too descended upon the Treason Of Isengard...

* * *

 **Fortress of Isengard  
"Misty Mountains" Sector  
Continent of "Middle Earth"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5**

Falcon02 swooped low over the wall and out over the grounds of Isengard – an ugly mass of hastily erected wooden buildings and workshops and forges and open trenches leading deep into the earth. Elsewhere, Falcon01 and with it Fireteam Charlie was flying out towards the large dam and reservoir that lay in the hills north of them. Minutes ago, they'd done a couple flybys of the main Isengard force and decimated them, but now that the Rohanians would take it from here, it was time to fly onwards to Isengard and take out the big boss himself.

They weren't flying very high above the ground, and when Kyra looked out the small window, she could almost see the individual faces on all the ugly brutes left behind to defend the fortress while their main army was out in the field. Everyone seemed surprised and shaken by the sudden appearance of the Falcons. Some, however, stood their ground, admirably so, and tried to fire back at them with whatever weaponry they had – bows, crossbows, ballistas, even a few of their simple black powder handguns. Most of these projectiles bounced ineffectively off the thick armor plating of the Falcon, but they'd be a hazard to anyone trying to disembark...

"Looks like we've sure kicked the hornet's nest now," remarked Kyra.

"Since your first attempt, Saruman would have expected another attack would come again one day," replied the wizard, Gandalf, from where he was seated, "we must end the Treachery Of Isengard today, 'else who knows what other infernal contraptions he may invent and construct if left to his own devices." He briefly glanced around the interior of the Falcon, perhaps wondering if such a feat of technological prowess was ever indeed on the other wizard's long-term agenda...

"Look man, I know Saruman's a douchebag, but what's wrong with technology?" piped up Pvt. Jeff Caldwell, "it's just a means to an end, that's all. It's not good or evil, it's the person using it and how."

"Yeah, we have a saying in the Corps," chimed in Pvt. Callum "Cale" Sanders, "guns don't kill people; Marines do!"

"Hell yeah!" added Pvt. Mafu Lau, bumping fists with Cale.

"Stay frosty, people," barked Sergeant Rico, and everyone else shut up. "Let's not fuck this up again. We're doing this for Phil, and for Jan."

"OO-RAH!" came the response from everyone, save for Steve and the old wizard.

"We're coming up on the dropzone," spoke their pilot, Lt. Lorrie Fisher, over the intercom, "heads up, LZ's lookin' hot."

"On it!" replied Cale as he manned the M2134 Minigun on the port-side door. Meanwhile, Pvt. Jules Gallard manned the door gun on the starboard side. The warning lights inside the cabin flashed red, and then both doors slid wide open. The barrels of the M2134 began to spin...

 ** _BBBBBBRRRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP_** roared Cale's MiniGun.

 ** _BBBBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP_** replied Gallard's one in response.

From where she was strapped in, Kyra leaned over and stole a view out of the open doors, and watched the carnage unfold below as masses of the ugly brutes seemed to just melt away. She turned to look at how their guest was taking it. The wizard remained calm and sat still, but something on his face betrayed a mix of perhaps being impressed and at the same time aghast at the sheer destructive power than mere mortal men could wield.

"LZ's clear!" shouted Sgt. Rico, "Caldwell, take point! Rest of you, I want a clean dispersal this time!"

Kyra and the rest of Fireteam Bravo immediately stood up and lined up, ready to disembark, while Cale stood out of the way and pulled the M2134 back in on its swiveling mount, leaving the doorway clear.

"You comin' with?" asked Kyra to the wizard.

The old man, however, shook his head. "I know where Saruman will be. I must face him alone."

"Well, your call," replied Kyra, "but regardless, good luck!"

"In my experience, there's no such thing as luck," muttered Gandalf, "only fate and choice."

"Alright people, let's move, move, move!" barked the sarge, abruptly.

As per the sarge's command, Pvt. Jeff Caldwell was the first one out. One of the attachments to the combat webbing he wore on top of his Mk.7 Ballistics Armor was a large karabiner; quickly and expertly, just as they had been trained to, he clipped this onto the end of the thick plastic cable wound up on the overhead reel, and then leapt out of the open doorway. He hit the ground on both feet, quickly unclipped himself from the cable, and gave the okay hand signal.

One by one, each of the Marines grasped onto the cable and slid down it to the ground. After Pvt. Caldwell came Pvt. Madden; as the first two on the ground, they immediately opened up with laying down a suppressing fire, to cover the rest of Fireteam Bravo as they deployed. Then came Pvt. Dreyfus, Gallard, Sanders, and Lau.

Kyra was the second-to-last one out. She grabbed the cable in her gloved hands, swung her right leg around it, and with her left leg pushed off from out of the Falcon. It was thirty feet down to the ground. She slid down the cable, hit the ground and immediately let go and rolled over to clear the way for the sarge coming down right after her. She then knelt, reached for her back, grabbed and pulled up the Stacker Assault Rifle she had magnetically clamped to her backpack. She loaded a fresh magazine from her belt, and clicked off the safety. Good. Last time they were here, they'd tried to go it with mainly non-lethals. Well, they'd sure learnt the hard-way. Today, there'd be no quarter given. Today was payback time.

Sgt. Rico was the last one out; soon as he was groundside, the cable was quickly reeled back in, and Falcon02 lifted off, headed to elsewhere on the battlefield...

"This is Fireteam Charlie," came the voice of Sgt. Harris over the radio, laced with radio static but otherwise loud and clear, "we're at the dam. Minimal resistance here, just a few guards. We're setting the demo charges now. Give us five minutes. Worse come to worse, just give us the order to blow this place, and we'll drown 'em out like rats."

"Roger that," replied Rico before turning to face everyone else, "hear that? That don't give us much time to locate and free any prisoners. Let's move!"


	35. Duel Of The Fates

**_Chapter 35: Duel Of The Fates  
_**

 **The Shieldmaiden (II)  
**  
The very earth of the Westfold itself shook and quaked from the thundering hooves upon it. Up ahead, the Uruks were in complete disarray from the barrage of light and fire and water that the flying ships had unleashed upon them. Plumes of smoke arose from the places along the battle line where the Falcon's breath had fallen upon them, and in many other places, the soldiers of Isengard were still struggling to get back to their feet or to trudge through the mud from all the water that had struck them like a flash flood from the sky. And as they drew nearer, it could be seen that some of the Uruks simply lay where they had fallen, slain or possibly drowned by the sheer weight of water falling upon their heads...

Éowyn too had been shocked and awed by the spectacle of the two Falcon-ships and the larger Dragon-ship that had just flown by, even though she had been told ahead of time what to expect, and from the look of it, the rest of the men under her command shared her sentiment. But at the very least the Sky-People were on their side, and that was all that mattered at this moment.

Faster and lighter as they were, the light cavalry pulled far ahead of the heavy cavalry coming up behind them; several hundred riders egging their mounts onwards, closer and closer, until Éowyn was certain she could see the fear and hate burning in the eyes of the first ranks of Uruks, rushing to restore some semblance of order to their formations, many still dripping wet from the impromptu rainstorm, raising their shields, lowering their spears and pikes into place, some of them even armed with those "fire-arms"...

"Now!" shouted Éowyn, and she pulled her horse hard to the left, and instead of riding right into the waiting spearpoints, she charged along the frontline, following the battle lines of the Uruks, but keeping her distance. Staying her course, she turned her head around to see what was happening behind her.

Sure enough, the rest of the horse archers following her had followed her lead, and now rode along the front of the Uruks as they presented their bows, and unleashed a hail of arrows at the enemy. At these close ranges, only a dozen or so paces away, the composite bows of the Rohirrim were able to penetrate the armor and shields of the Uruks far better than from the longer distances they were usually used at. Hundreds of horse archers loosed thousands of arrows in that one pass, each arrow finding its mark easily in the densely packed throng of bodies.

As Éowyn lead the light riders around in a large arc, that was when the heavy riders coming up right behind them now converged on the decimated Uruk line, lances at the ready. Like a wave breaking over a stony shore, four _éoreds_ crashed into the front ranks of the enemy. Lances and spears were thrust back and forth, swords clanged against shields, and men and orckind both screamed and shouted and roared at one another.

But the melee did not last long. The first line of Uruks, already severely weakened, broke easily, but Éowyn could see from her position, as she led the archers back to prepare for another pass, that the second line just behind them were now advancing, rushing forward to reinforce the crumbling first line. There were huge gaps in the formation – places where the flying ships of the Sky-People had taken their terrible toll among the Army Of The White Hand. But all the same, it was still a menacing sight, and sure enough, she heard one of the nobles calling out on his trumpet, signaling for the _éored_ to withdraw and reform for the next charge.

It was a horrid and messy tangle of bodies and weapons, but most of the lancers who began the charge were able to disentangle themselves from the melee and retreat. As they did so, they were provided cover by Éowyn and her horse archers, who continued to loose their arrows at the regrouping enemy, determined to grant them no respite, no opportunity to reform themselves. But she could see that the riders around her were down to only a few arrows each left, and that meant that soon, they would have to retreat in order to resupply...

That was when she heard once more the piercing scream through the air above them and looked up, and saw one of the Falcon-ships had returned. It was swooping low over the field for a second pass, once more spitting forth glowing rays of light upon the foe, sending up gouts of flame and smoke wherever they struck. By then, the second line of the Uruks had crashed into the rear of the first line; both lines seemed to coalescence into a single writhing mass of bodies, setting up the perfect target for the Falcon-ship to strike.

One of the captains riding closest to her had stopped to stare in wonder at the gruesome spectacle. "Orders, m'lady?" asked he, a young noble by the name of Dernhelm.

"Let the Sky-People do their work and we shall do ours," she replied, not once taking her eyes off the carnage that unfolded before them. "Signal camp to bring up our reserves of arrows. Any news on the rest of the battle? Of our King, and of my brother and our allies of Gondor?"

Dernhelm was about to answer, when he paused, as if struggling to hear something over the din of battle. Éowyn heard it too – over the roar of the flying ships and the clashes of swords and the thundering of hooves, she could hear the distant cracking of fire-arms being discharged by the hundred. It was regular and rhythmic, repeating itself over and over again. She smiled. This could only mean one thing, and that was that Faramir and her brother were doing their part and holding the right flank.

* * *

 **Gandalf (II)  
**  
He was still very much undecided about he felt about these foreigners who had come from even further afield than Valinor. They boasted machines and physical weapons far greater than any other realm on Middle Earth, but they were also lacking in sorcery and wisdom. They were a feisty people, impetuous, ambitious, always yearning to do all they could in their short lives. And beneath it all, they were a people capable of both great good and great evil as well. Gandalf did not trust in them yet, not entirely, but so long as their purposes were aligned against those of the Dark Lord at this moment, they might at the very least make themselves useful.

Yes, perhaps to have had a machine to ride in like this Falcon-ship would have made the quest to cast the Ring back into the fiery pit from whence it came a far easier and faster endeavor. But then again, perhaps to have taken such a shortcut was not the will of Eru. Gandalf, in his great wisdom and travels, had seen much of this world, but somehow, even he could never have foreseen or foretold the Sky-People, and the devices and ideas they would bring. Perhaps they were part of his plan, or perhaps they were not, or perhaps Eru's plan was something never fixed at all, but was instead always in constant motion, always adapting and adjusting itself. Who knew? All that Gandalf knew there and then was that there was a part for everyone to play, and right now, this, here, was the part the Sky-People would play in this war. Let the Ring remain with the one already chosen to bear it...

"You sure about this?" asked the one who was their leader, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"I appreciate your concern, Stephen, Son Of Lynn," he replied, "but Saruman is a being of great and terrible power. Simply look at what he havoc he wrought upon your warriors last time. Leave him to me, and he shall trouble you no more."

"Okay," muttered Stephen, "now, you sure you don't need a parachute or a jet-pack for the landing? We can't land on the roof of Orthanc, so you'll still need to jump and..."

Gandalf laid a hand on his shoulder, which shut him up at once. "Trust me; I am a Wizard, I have no need of it."

"Sir!" spoke the voice of their pilot, one Lady Fisher, conveyed to them over a small lifeless metal box set into the ceiling above them. "We're over the drop-point now. Get our friend here ready to drop out."

"Roger that," replied Stephen, who then turned to face him, and placed something large and cold and metallic in his hand. "Look, whatever the case, just take this. You never know when it might come in handy. And you already have a radio. You know how to work this? Things don't work out, hit this button here, and it'll connect you to us. Just call us, we'll be here as soon as we can."

"Thank you," he spoke, "but go; I assure you that the Sons and Daughters of Rohan are in far more dire need of your help than I shall be." And with that, Gandalf turned, and leapt out through the open doors. The towering spires that crowned the pinnacle of Orthanc lay some forty feet below him, and as he fell, he had a brief moment to look around him and glimpse the grounds of Isengard, now aflame with battle, sprawling out below him. His feet hit the ground but as gently as if he had only leapt five feet instead of forty.

"You have returned, old friend," boomed a deep voice that could only have belonged to one individual. "I have been most looking forward to this." From the doorway set into one of the spires at the far end of the roof emerged the Wizard Of Many Colors, his black tunic and cape billowing in the wind. He was flanked by eight of his Uruk guards, each brandishing a fire-arm, and unlike the crude steel ones of the regular ranks, these were special brass and gilded guns, perhaps enhanced by whatever fell sorcery the former White Wizard had poured into them...

"Saruman," muttered Gandalf, defiantly, "perhaps I should warn you that my power has more than doubled since last we met."

"Good," smiled Saruman, "twice the pride, double the fall. Guards, leave us."

"But master!" protested one of the Uruks, "I 'ave a straight shot at 'im! Why doncha just let us shoot 'im?"

"I will not repeat myself, Nicknack," replied Saruman, coldly, "be gone!"

The Uruk captain stared at his fellow orcs-in-arms for a moment, who were all as confused as he, and then nodded begrudgingly, and left. When they were alone, the two wizards presented their staffs and began to slowly circle one another...

"I could have had my guards shoot you on the spot, but that would have been far too easy," chided Saruman, "and unfitting. You deserve far better than that. We could have been allies, companions in forging a new age for this world. Well, regardless, here's to us, dear Olorin; we are the best."

"We shall see about that soon enough," muttered Gandalf, and with that, he struck first, lashing out with his staff straight at his old friend. But Saruman was quick, and blocked the blow with his own. Brilliant sparks of red and blue and a crackling, hissing sound shot out from the point where the two staffs had made contact. The duel of the fates had begun.

* * *

 **40 meters below Ground Level  
Fortress of Isengard  
"Misty Mountains" Sector  
Continent of "Middle Earth"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5**

The grounds of Isengard had become a warzone. Gunfire and explosions could be heard echoing across the entire compound, and the sky lit up with tracer rounds and the occasional gout of flame of return fire from the enemy; their primitive weapons were no match for the Marines in terms of accuracy or rate-of-fire, but there were a lot of them and God damn it did they sure put up a fight.

Falcon01 had returned whilst Falcon02 remained out at the place where the other battle was going on, and every so often, it would perform another flyby, swooping low over the grounds and laser'ing the hell out of anything in its way. Hearing the roar of the engines overhead was reassuring to the squad, as at the very least this time they would have air support.

But if what was going above ground was bad enough, far, far worse still was what awaited the team as they made their way down into the caverns beneath the ground...

"AAARRRRGGGHHH!" screamed one of the ugly brutes as he and three others emerged from their hiding place just a few feet to the left of her, charging right at her. Corporal Kyra Lynn, however, had been warned by the motion tracker in her helmet HUD, and was ready for them. First, she raised her Stacker AR, and flashed the flashlight attachment at him, causing the Uruk to pause for a brief moment, shielding its eyes from the light.

She wanted to conserve ammo, so she charged forward, swung up her right arm, and struck the first assailant right in his ugly face with the butt of her rifle. There was a sickening crunch and she knew she must have broken something important, because the first assailant collapsed onto the floor. Then, still gripping her Stacker AR tightly with her left hand, she drew out her Marine standard-issue combat knife from its sheath. The second Uruk stabbed at her with his sword; it struck and glanced ineffectively off her Mk. 7 Ballistics Armor, giving her enough time to rush him and stab him in the neck.

The second Uruk stumbled backwards for a second, almost too stunned to simply die. She raised her right leg, and kicked him furiously; he fell backward, right into the path of the third and fourth Uruk. She then raised her Stacker AR, and fired a single shot, aimed right at the creature's black heart; the single 7.62mm round struck and penetrated all three bodies in a row.

"This sector's clear, no prisoners," spoke Pvt. Mafu Lau over the radio, "moving onto the next one."

"Roger that," replied Sgt. Rico, also over the radio, "let's try to pick up the pace a little. It's been half an hour."

Fireteam Bravo and Charlie had both split up into 4- or 5-man squads, with three searching the underground cavern, while the fourth remained on the surface to keep any remaining hostiles there suppressed. So far, they'd been making good progress; the phosphorus flares, the M69 "Banshee" Sonic & Ultrasonic Device, and the flashbang grenades in particular proved to be useful in helping clear out these underground tunnels. But after what had happened last time, the team was taking no chances, especially now that Saruman had been working on producing firearms of his own.

Up there was a wooden door set into the cave wall. The motion-tracker in the lower righthand corner of Kyra's helmet HUD indicated movement on the other side. "We got ten on the other side," she warned, "careful, it looks like they're trying to load a cannon with a 12-pound shot and surprise us."

"I got this," said Pvt. Jeff Caldwell, "just make sure your audio filters are on cos this is gonna be loud." With that, he kicked down the door, and fired the M69 Banshee he was carrying in addition to his Stacker AR. The intense soundwaves generated by the device reverberated around the small enclosed space and came back out with still enough force that Kyra, even with her helmet filters on, still felt the sound wave through her armor. Caldwell and Gallard then went into the room to finish off all of the hostiles inside it while they were still reeling from the sonic blast, while Kyra and Lau stood guard outside.

"Thaumo's going wild," cautioned Lau, checking one of the thaumometers that the team had brought with them, "heads up, looks like we have magic targets inbound, three o' clock."

"I see 'em," replied Kyra, "about a couple dozen of 'em. Give 'em a taste of the dragon's breath. Caldwell! Gallard! Finish up whatever you're doing and get your asses back out here!" Kyra and Lau then took position, and waited. According to the motion trackers, these hostiles were just regular Uruks, and yet something they were carrying among them was setting off the thaumo.

Lau removed a special round from his bandolier and inserted it into the breach of his Stacker AR's under-attached grenade launcher. In some cases, depending on the ammo used, the grenade launcher could double as a less effective shotgun. Now, as Lau stepped around the corner and fired at the approaching hostiles, the magnesium pellets contained in the 20mm "Dragon's Breath" round spread out and ignited, creating a gout of flame over 1,600 degrees Celsius and a hundred feet in length.

Most of the group approaching them were seared alive by the flames. However, a few of them – either on the flanks of the group, just out of the flame's direct path, or at the far rear – managed to survive the blast, and now fought back, as viciously as ever. They were all carrying firearms, except that, so Kyra noticed, these ones were different from the ones they'd encountered before – even in the low light of the cave, they shown brightly, and it was clear they were made of brass or something similar. That was when she realized just what was it that had set off the thaumometer.

One of the hostiles aimed his fire-arm, and opened fire, sending a stream of red sparks flying at the two of them. It missed, but came terrifyingly close. Evidently, The Company™ were not the only ones working on fusing magic with technology.

Kyra and Lau returned fire, as did Caldwell and Gallard who had joined them, and together they dispatched most of the remaining hostiles as the tunnel quickly descended into a shooting gallery of bright lights and pyrotechnics and smoke. Whether through luck or skill, however, the last bugger left standing managed to land a hit before he too was gunned down. A bright burst of sparks struck Pvt. Lau, who cried out in pain and collapsed backwards.

"LAU!" cried out Kyra and the others.

"Shit!" winced Lau as he lay sprawled on the ground. A smoking scorch-mark on his left shoulder-paldron shown where the bastard had got him. "Ugh! Well, I guess they had to get lucky sooner or later." With his right hand, he tried to reach for the medical TRXY-180 packs each of them carried in their backpack.

"No, I got this," said Caldwell, kneeling down beside Lau, "don't move buddy, you'll make it worse."

"What's happening?" barked the voice of Sgt. Rico over the radio.

"Lau's wounded, sir," replied Kyra, "looks like some kind of, uh, magic gun or something."

"Shit. I hope our Dumbledore friend here can heal magic injuries," muttered Rico. "See if you can grab one for study. Anything else?"

"Negative, sir."

"Alright then," commanded Rico, "let's pop smoke and clear the hell outta here. I'm not risking anymore lives here today. We're gonna blow the dam and flood this place for good."

"Roger that, sir," replied Kyra. She paused. She had just noticed something at the end of the tunnel, glimpsing something through the smoke rising from the charred corpses. Could it be...?


	36. The Storming Of The Pit

**_Chapter 36: The Storming Of The Pit  
_**

 **Gandalf (III)**

Saruman came at him once more, his staff whirring through the air. Gandalf blocked him, staggering under the blow. Saruman withdrew his staff, spun on the spot, and tried to strike him again, this time from the other side. All of this transpired in a mere split second, but Gandalf was ready for him, blocking again, and then a third time.

Saruman, however, showed no signs of growing either tired or impatient. On the contrary, he seemed to be enjoying himself, slowly biding his time. He could keep this battle raging until Dagor Dagorath itself. And so it did indeed rage, back and forth across the roof of Orthanc, as the two wizards, powerful beings locked in the mortal bodies, traded blow after blow at each other, glowing sparks and sizzling flames lashing up from whenever their staffs made contact, brilliant pyrotechnics lighting up the duel between these two mighty figures. And all the while, down below them, the battle between Saruman's vile servants and the warriors of the Sky-People raged on in the grounds around the tower. Minutes seemed to drag into hours with no clear victor in sight.

Saruman, it seems, had been quite the busy one these last few months; not only had be been hard at work breeding an army and forging terrifying new weapons to arm them with, but he had also been exploring his own potential, experimenting with the limits of his own power, developing sinister new techniques. And right now, he shown little hesitation in displaying these new techniques, one-by-one, and bringing them out to shine in this duel. At one point, having managed to lock Gandalf's staff in place against his own, he delivered a fierce kick to the chest. Saruman focused all of his power into his foot, and sent Gandalf flying backwards through the air, right into one of the stone spires that formed the crown of Orthanc. He struck the pillar with a _thud_ , and seemed to lay prone for a moment.

Saruman too paused from his attacks. He glared at Gandalf, and then slowly paced back and forth across the tower, studying him, like a hungry wolf circling its prey, sizing it up before preparing to strike. That was when at last a small revelation came to Saruman's senses. "Narya, the Red Ring," he snarled, "so you had it with you all along, _Olorin?_ Is that what continues to sustain you in your weariness? To make you continue to fight back against the inevitable?"

Gandalf, calmly, readied himself to receive the next attack. "The Ring Of Fire is not yours to take. Nor is the One Ring itself," he replied, slowly, "and there are many other forces too at work in this universe, some for ill but just as many for good."

Saruman said nothing, but resumed the battle, charging at him. Gandalf sighed, and decided at last was the time to unleash his full power.

* * *

 **40 meters below Ground Level  
Fortress of Isengard  
"Misty Mountains" Sector  
Continent of "Middle Earth"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5**

Beneath Isengard there lay a veritable maze of tunnels and passageways connecting dozens of smaller rooms and individual chambers with several larger underground caverns. It was these places, excavated in record time by Saruman's workforce, where the vast majority of the work was done in creating his armies and forging the new weapons that would fight their war. It was almost like a miniature representation of Earth's own Industrial Revolution and the new era of warfare that followed it, all compressed down into a single hellish locale...

Corporal Kyra Lynn was a proud Marine of the United Nations Colonial Defense Force. She'd first enlisted at the age of 18, had participated in the ongoing actions against insurgents and rogue states on Mars, and again at Alpha Centauri when the UN had to intervene because The Company™ and the native cat-people furries over there had run into some "cultural differences" that somehow could only be resolved through bloodshed and regardless of with whom the fault for these lay, the lives of Human citizens of Earth was at risk. But the sight that now greeted her eyes would have disturbed and unsettled even the most hardened fighting men and women of the Corps.

In front of them, stacked some thirty feet high, was a huge pile of disemboweled bodies, bones, and discarded body parts. _Human bodies_. Men. Women. Little children too. Flies buzzed about the scene in swarms, while small shapes darted quickly among them, which could have been rats or some other disgusting scavenger. Even with their helmet air filters on, Kyra could have sworn she could smell the pungent stink arising from the mass of corpses that lay in front of her eyes.

Scurrying among the bodies were several of the smaller orcs. They seemed to be carrying bloody cloth bags on them and knives too; it seemed their very job was to scour through these human remains, scavenging them for any useful parts they could find. The arrival of the Marines had startled them, and now they could be seen running away like the cowardly little shits they were, making a beeline for the doorway at the far end of the tunnel. Kyra was still reeling from the sight of all those corpses lain there like some mass grave straight outta the Holocaust, but she knew wherever they were heading must have been somewhere important, so she followed them, her Stacker AR at the ready.

The next room held further horrors for the team. It was a fairly large chamber, with about forty or so wooden beds laid out in neat rows. It was fairly well-lit – in addition to the flaming oil-lamps that hung from the ceiling, there were places in the wall where bright glowing crystals had been set into them – these were presumably the creation of the Wizard himself, so that he may have adequate illumination provided to him whilst he conducted his foul experiments.

This was the room where the orcs they had seen earlier had retreated to. As she entered, Kyra could see that the few of them along with several Uruks left here, presumably to stand guard over the Wizard's work, were now taking cover at the far end of the room, putting together a barricade from several of the beds, preparing crossbows and some more of their firearms to put up a defense.

Instinctively, she opened fire at them, launching a single 20mm grenade at them which detonated amongst the group, splintering their makeshift barricade in a mix of body parts, shrapnel, and smoldering wooden shards. There was another brilliant flash as one of the light crystals set into the wall also exploded, searing the two orcs closest to it. Once her helmet HUD motion tracker registered no more moving targets in this room, she took a brief moment to investigate the premises.

Most of the beds were empty, but at least five of them still had bodies lying upon them. The one nearest her was what had caught her attention. Upon the bed there lay a body, inactive and unmoving; it was a vile creation of human and orc and various other body parts too, all stitched together. It looked like one of the Uruks, but upon closer examination, she could see that it was meant to be a new breed altogether, extra strips of muscle and sinews grafted onto its body, like some kind of twisted Uruk on steroids...

"Holy... _fuuucckkk_..." muttered Pvt. Caldwell, right behind her, aghast at the sight, "shit... this must be... the place where those... half-orc, half-human thingies are created."

Kyra didn't reply. At that moment, she was driven, half by the adrenaline pumping in her veins and her own morbid sense of curiosity, onwards to the door at the far other side of the room. She didn't even bother examining the other bodies left in this room. Instead, she strode forwards, her heart racing, breathing heavily, her Stacker AR ready, dreading just what she might find on the other side. She turned on her flashlight attachment, kicked down the door, and entered...

The final chamber was the largest and by far the worst. It was nearly pitch black, what little illumination there was came from a few oil-lamps hanging from the ceiling, but Kyra could see everything clearly enough thanks to her HUD's thermal vision, and the small but powerful LED light she now shone around the room. It was a large cavern, with hundreds of beds, lain out in rows upon rows much like the last room. But unlike the last room, each of these beds still had an occupant lying upon it. And unlike the last room, each of them were still alive and breathing and moving slightly.

Kyra shone her flashlight at the first bed nearest her. The body that lay upon it was no Orc or Uruk. It was a perfectly normal human girl, perhaps no more than 15 at most. Her blonde hair had been shaved nearly to the scalp by her captors; she must have come from Rohan, perhaps kidnapped, or else from neighboring Dunland, offered perhaps as tribute to Saruman by the tribes there that had aligned themselves with his cause. She was bound, by the shackles on her feet and hands, to the bed upon which she lay, the skin around these rubbed raw by repeated struggles to pull herself free of them. Her clothes were ragged and in tatters, and there was a look of wild terror in her eyes as she turned to look in her direction, unsure of who Kyra was but terrified all the same of what she had been expecting to happen to her. She tried to cry out, but her mouth was gagged.

Kyra was confused and shocked by this, and quickly turned to examine the next bed. There lay another girl, not too different from the first, but she looked far calmer and more forlorn, as if she were resigned to her fate, as if death at that moment would have been a kindness to her. There was an ominous bulge on midsection, betraying the sign of a late-stage pregnancy. That was when it occurred to Kyra just where was it that Saruman had gotten his "half-orc, half-human" hybrids from. She fell to her knees, and cried out in despair.

* * *

"Uh... calling Sarge, this is Caldwell here. Over."

"What's going on? What've you found? Where's Corporal Lynn?"

"She's... I... there's no words to... uh... shit... I... I think we should hold off on blowing the dam, sir. I repeat: blowing the dam is a no-go. Over."

"What? Fuck, this doesn't sound good at all. Hang tight, Private, I'm en route to your location. Over and out."

* * *

 **Gandalf (IV)  
**  
Saruman stumbled backwards, crying out in pain and shock, wisps of smoke hissing from the stump of where his right hand was seconds ago when he had tried to seize Narya, the Elven Ring Of Fire. He still clutched his staff tightly in his left hand, but it was clear just who had emerged triumphant from their long battle.

"Saruman Of Many Colors! Formerly Of The White!" declared Gandalf as he advanced slowly, his voice unnaturally loud and clear, "for your betrayal of the sacred trust invested in you as the once Head of the White Council, Master of the Istari, I hereby cast you from the order, declare your life forfeit, and your staff broken!"

With that, with a single motion, Gandalf brought his staff around and struck Saruman's staff. There was a blinding white and red light and a sharp **_CRACK_** that filled the air as it shattered into a hundred shards. Saruman drew back his left hand in shock, and fell backwards onto the floor. He was perilously near to the edge.

While the battle below was still raging, a handful of Orcs and Uruks and Dunlendings too could be seen who had all gathered around the base of the tower to watch their master fight; no sooner had Gandalf destroyed Saruman's staff, then these spectators had already begun to flee in terror at the sight of their master defeated. Gandalf took a moment to look at all that was happening around them, and then his eyes returned to his former brother of the Order Of The Istari, turned bitter enemy. For a moment, both were motionless and silent, staring into one another's eyes.

At long last, Gandalf spoke: "Curunir, old friend," he sighed, reproachfully, "what has become of you? Look around you! Is this what you wanted? You came to this world to stand for all this is good and orderly within it! To help guide Men to find the strength in their hearts to stand before the rise of the Dark Lord! And instead all you have brought is needless destruction and suffering and death!"

"It is you who are blinded," spat the defeated wizard, "my way is the way forwards, of building a newer and stronger world. It is inevitable, and if we do not change, than the Dark Lord will make us change when his influence sweeps over Middle Earth with the tedious inevitability of an unloved season." He cast a glance at the battlefield below them. "Tell me: what empty promises did you make the Sky-People to bring them to your side? What silver-coated lies did you spin in the ears of Lords Teller and Lynn? Perhaps the same as those you told the Halfling when you set him out on the road to his doom?"

Gandalf paused for a second, shifting uncomfortably, thinking of the Fellowship and whatever had become of them... "Your 'new world' comes at far too high a price," he continued, trying to keep the pressure on his opponent, "and what of the Sky-People? I simply laid before them the truth, told them that the choices they will make in these next few days would forever come to define them."

Saruman laughed, mockingly. "Oh, Olorin, dear friend, you do not know the Sky-People at all, do you? Of the evil that lurks in the hearts of these Men from beyond the stars? Of their society built on excess and depravity? Of their remorseless greed and ambition, that leave millions dead and whole worlds barren, like a swarm of metal locusts scouring the void between worlds? They may hail from the stars themselves, but in flesh they are little more than Númenor arisen again a hundred-fold - petty and weak mortal creatures destined to be consumed by their own arrogance!"

"I know enough of them now to know they are capable of great good and evil both," retorted Gandalf. He paused for a moment before continuing. "And after all that you have done here, can the Istari _really_ claim to be any better?"

"Sky-People or not, Mordor is on the move," replied Saruman, coldly, "as we speak, an army unlike any ever seen since the Fall Of Gondolin now marches upon Gondor, an army I had a hand in the creation thereof." He spoke this last part with a small touch of pride and boastfulness in his voice.

"Curunir," said Gandalf, shaking his head, "whether Sauron triumphs or not, I will make sure you have no further part in whatever world he intends to bring about. But... you may yet help us save many from the ravages of this wasteful war. You were deep in The Enemy's council; tell me what you know."

The formerly White Wizard glared back at him, though it was clear that he was also thinking on how best to answer this question. And then he was just about to speak when...

 ** _SHUNK.  
_**  
Saruman's exploded in a mass of blood and brain and glowing red sparks sizzling and shooting everywhere.

"Great Manwe's beard!" exclaimed Gandalf, taken aback. Pieces of the former Istari's mortal body had splattered themselves all over his face and beard and his robes, while the rest of the body crumbled onto the floor. For a split second, Gandalf sensed Curunir's soul, unseen but very much present, rising from his dismembered mortal remains, powerless and forlorn, looking to The West but ultimately pulled elsewhere like something else were spiriting him away. Gandalf frowned. No, it certainly did not feel like the influence of the Dark Lord, but he could not quite place the feeling of what he was sensing. His focus was broken however a second later as turned to see the source of this commotion.

Standing in the doorway to the staircase, having emerged from below, there stood the Sky-Woman warrior known as Kyra Lynn. In her arms she brandished one of those golden guns he had seen earlier in the hands of Saruman's highest ranking Uruks. The end of this weapon was smoking profusely.

Kyra herself was breathing heavily and shaking all over as she approached, never once taking her eyes off of Saruman. She had removed the helmet and mask she was wearing earlier, and so now Gandalf could see her face clearly. Her hair was wild and unkept, and her eyes were red and swollen and burning with hate; she had been crying profusely in the minutes leading up to this moment.

"Oh dear," muttered Gandalf, "you have seen the breeding pits, haven't you?"

Kyra said nothing, only continued to glare at the now headless body. And then, fueled by her hatred, she kicked it. She kicked it so hard that Saruman's body, already close to the edge of the tower as it was when it had fallen, was pushed over the edge and slowly plummeted down towards the ground. It impaled itself on one of the sharp spires jutting out from the edifice of Orthanc, halfway down.


	37. Gibbets & Crows

**_Chapter 37: Gibbets & Crows  
_**

 **The Horse King (V)**

The aid of the Sky-People had been decisive. The storm of light and water that had descended upon the Army Of The White Hand from above had decimated their ranks and deprived them the use of their fire-arms and their cannons. Forced to fall back on their spears and melee weapons, they had still put up a fierce struggle, but the outcome of this battle was by now a foregone conclusion.

On the right flank, disciplined ranks of volley fire were provided by the Gondorian allies under the command of the Steward's own second son. The Uruks evidently had trained in the use of fire-arms but had not prepared for coming under fire themselves. To their credit, it had still taken several volleys before at last they had broken and retreated, and Éomer and Faramir had remounted their forces to pursue them. On the left flank, Éowyn had proven herself a true shieldmaiden of Rohan if ever there was one. Here, determined not to be undone by their Gondorian allies, the horse archers under her command had done their part in making the oncoming ranks of Uruks pay dearly for every step forward they took.

Right now, however, King Théodred's focus was entirely on the center, where he commanded the main bulk of the mustering of Rohan. This was perhaps the trickiest part of the battlefield and a true test for the Young King; the battles on the flanks were by no means a simple feat, but at least these were areas where the swift and mounted Rohirrim had the advantage. Here in the center however, there was far less space to maneuver, and even decimated and demoralized as they were, a solid schiltron of Uruk Hai was still a formidable barrier to assail.

King Théodred was there, right in the thick of it, swinging his sword left and right, hacking his way through the ranks of the foe. By now, the archers had expended all their arrows (including the reserves brought in from camp), and it was now up to the swords and spears to take advantage of the gaps opened up in the line and try to tear this army apart from the inside out. The young King never looked back, but knew that the morning sun behind him had cast its rays into the eyes of those hateful creatures of the dark, greatly aiding in their charge upon the line.

And he was joined on the battlefield by one other: Lady Vidyë. She wore no armor, only her white dress, and she rode no horse. And yet there she was, able to sprint and keep pace with the Rohirrim as they charged, and with a grace and agility that in all Middle Earth only the Elves could have possessed, she danced and darted and weaved her way through the melee, tearing through the horde like the equivalent of a hundred men...

All of a sudden, his horse reared up and screamed out in pain; a couple of Uruks had managed to get close enough to start hacking away at the poor creature. Théodred was thrown from his horse, and down onto the mud of the battlefield. He landed hard on his back, but managed to roll out of the way as his mount collapsed onto the ground; another second, and he would have been pinned under the dying beast.

He struggled to his feet, but he was too late. One of the Uruk swordsmen was already converging on him, dirty grey sword only weakly glinting in the morning light. The King raised his sword arm, ready to try to block the coming blow. It never came. His attacker stopped all of a sudden, and without warning, a steel blade covered in black blood and pus erupted from his throat. The Uruk looked stupefied, gagged, and then collapsed forward, landing in the mud right next to the King.

He looked up and saw the Lady standing above him, a blooded sword being grasped in each hand. She looked down upon him for a second... and then, in a single motion, she threw down the sword in her left hand, and then held it out to him. "The Kingdom Of Rohan has lost enough monarchs to this war already," she remarked. Théodred stared at her for a second, unsure of what to make of this. And then, he grabbed her hand, and pulled himself up.

In the distance, a trumpet sounded. Théodred looked around him. The left and right flanks of the enemy host were completely shattered. Riders of Rohan were now folding inwards toward the center from both the left and the right. The battle may have been a foregone conclusion from the start, but only now was it truly the time to deliver the final killing blow.

* * *

"THÉODRED!" roared the men several minutes later, "THÉODRED, KING!"

He couldn't help but smile inside as he remounted himself on a new horse brought to him, and rode out before the rest of the army. Éomer and Faramir had ridden to join him, though Éowyn was still out on the far left flank, mopping up whatever resistance there remained out there. The men all around him were cheering ecstatically, raising their swords and shields to the sky. _Oh Father_ , he thought to himself, _wherever you are, I hope I have done you proudly today..._

"Monarch Théodred," interrupted the Lady, who was walking beside him, "I have just been informed that Mr. Saruman has been killed, and his remaining forces at Isengard are fleeing. Mr. Gandalf's mission has been a tactical success."

"Good riddance to bad rubbish!" sneered Éomer, approving of the news. He turned to face his King. "My liege! What orders have you?"

Théodred turned to survey the battlefield whilst he thought carefully on this. "Éomer, brother: take six éoreds and pursue what remains of the enemy, 'til the banks of the Isen if necessary. Grant them no respite. Saruman or not, I will not tolerate that any of these survivors turn to brigandry and continue to harass my people."

"Yes, my king," replied Éomer, bowing his head respectfully.

"The rest of you?" he continued, "search the field. Gather our wounded for healing, and our dead for burial. Salvage whatever useful weaponry and armor we may from the enemy, and burn the rest. And when we are done here, we shall return to Edoras, and at once make ready." He paused briefly, and looked to Faramir. "The battle for Rohan is over. But the battle for Gondor rages on as we speak."

* * *

 **Fortress of Isengard  
"Misty Mountains" Sector  
Continent of "Middle Earth"  
Northern Hemisphere, Planet EE-L5**

It was heartbreaking to see the first of the prisoners emerge from underground. Those who could stand were brought up first, but even the strongest among them were a pitiful sight to behold: weak, sickly, their heads shaved by their captors, skin pale from having been kept underground for months or perhaps even years, many malnourished, some unable to speak at all. These were the most fortunate ones.

The sicker and weaker ones were still down in the pit, waiting to be rescued, and yet even they could be considered fortunate: the less fortunate ones were those whose bodies now formed that mass grave that Kyra had seen earlier. It sent a chill down her spine to realize that it was likely that most of the women ever held by Saruman had already died in his custody and nothing more could be done to help them.

Sgt. Rico had led the way; he and the rest of Fireteam Bravo had been assigned to evacuate all of the prisoners to the surface – all of them except for Pvt. Lau. His left shoulder was injured from the firefight down in the tunnels, but he was still on his feet and so had been able to make it back up to the surface. Meanwhile, Sgt. Harris and Fireteam Charlie had been assigned first to disarm the charges they had planted at the dam, and then now to slowly sweep the entire area and mop up whatever remained of the wizard's forces. Strangely enough, it seemed it was that bastard's will alone that was propping up most of his army's fighting resolve. According to Lt. Fisher, who had been flying Falcon02 for the entire battle, she had earlier seen hundreds of the ugly critters fleeing the area to the mountains north of here.

That didn't make her feel any better about what she had seen down in the pits. Not at all.

She... she just didn't know what to say. She was ashamed of herself, certainly. Keeping your head under the most trying of circumstances is something that the Corps drills into you from day one of boot camp. And yet nothing in training can quite prepare you for the hell that awaits you on the battlefield. She'd been in several firefights against insurgent forces on Mars or against hostile natives on Alpha Centauri, had seen for herself the aftermath of the infamous Schiaparelli Colony Massacre back on Mars, where terrorists had gunned down some hundred unarmed civilians in cold blood. But this? This was a new level of awful altogether. The discovery of the true nature and extent of Saruman's crimes had hit everyone like a brick but Kyra was taking it worse than the others – partly because she was the first one to find it... and she was a little ashamed to admit it, because she was the only woman on the squad.

She knew she should have conducted herself better. She should not have run off like she did in the middle of the battle, gone running off to pursue some personal vendetta against that bastard Saruman. But at that moment, she had just snapped. And she knew sooner or later, she would have to answer to her superiors over what she had done. But for the moment, the Sarge and Steve too had said nothing, except simply to order her back down to help with the rescue operation.

No sooner had the terrible truth been revealed to all, when Steve immediately radioed back to the colony and ordered the mobilization of emergency supplies. Falcon01 and 02, as well as the Valk, had all returned to the colony and loaded up on medicine, tents, food, and then had flown back out here. At that moment, Dr. Sadhwani and his team from The Company™'s medical center at the colony, including several of the local laborers they had hired from Gondor, could be seen scurrying about frantically, rushing to examine and treat each new victim as she was brought up from down in the pits.

Meanwhile, a couple dozen of the native laborers flown in from the colony were at work under the supervision of several Company™ managers, either pitching tents or else offloading boxes of supplies from the shuttle. They were assisted by a couple HULK units that had been flown in to help with the heavy lifting. Even Steve himself, to his credit, had decided to try to lend a hand as best he could (though it was apparent perhaps he was better off staying behind a desk). Everyone busied themselves committing to the task at hand, but nothing could hide the fact that everyone, Terran and native alike, were all equally aghast at the task set before them. And the worst part was that there was no end in sight: there were more and more of the prisoners being brought up every few minutes, and there wasn't enough medicine or supplies to go around.

It was at least a couple hours before she finally took her first break. Kyra found a spot on the ground away from the field triage center, out of the way, and sat down, exhausted and drained. She took off her helmet, wiped the pouring sweat (and some tears too) from her brow, and sighed. This day just couldn't end fast enough.

Her thoughts drifted back to that first girl. She could not have been more than 15; possibly even younger. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like: to be kidnapped from your home at a young age, dragged out here, and then kept in chains and squalor in the dark, listening to the agonized wails and cries of those around her as they were so monstrously violated, and fearfully awaiting the day that it would be her turn...

"May I join you?" asked a voice from behind her. She said nothing, but nodded slowly. The wizard calmly laid down his staff upon the ground and took a seat on the ground next to her.

"If you're gonna try to spew some mystic wise old man mumbo jumbo to me like something out of some damn fantasy novel, no thanks," muttered Kyra at last, irritably, "my only regret is that I didn't make that fucker suffer long enough." She knew of course deep down Gandalf was only trying to console her, but she just couldn't help herself.

The old man sighed and shook his head. "I will not try to claim that I fully understand how you feel at this moment. But I hope that it gives you some small measure of comfort to know that these people would not have lived without you. Saruman's punishment will be long and severe, of that much I am certain."

 _Wait, isn't Saruman already dead?_ Kyra was puzzled by his statement, but decided not to pursue this any further. Instead, she looked back at what was already starting to look like a small refugee camp springing up right here in the shadow of the tower. "What's... what's going to happen to them now?" she asked, quietly, "we can save all of them, right? At least those still... still alive?"

Gandalf sighed. "Many of them are weak. The medicine your brothers-in-arms have brought will save many lives here today, but it may not be enough. And still many among them bear a dark taint upon them that your medicines may not yet be able to cure."

Before she could think of anything to say, she noticed there was a sudden commotion in the camp. "Shit," remarked Kyra. She turned on her radio: "this is Corporal Lynn here; what's going on?"

"Movement to the northeast!" came the voice of Steve in response, "Satcom has just informed us there's a large group heading our way, about 300 or so individuals. They could be hostiles. Harris and I are heading there to investigate."

The wizard, however, remained calm and composed. "Tell your lord cousin that there is nothing to fear. I shall handle this matter." Kyra didn't know whether to trust the old man or not, so she still followed him close behind as he rose to his feet and strode off towards the northeastern gate of the compound.

A few minutes later, Kyra and Gandalf arrived at the section of the perimeter wall of Isengard that faced northeast. Steve was already there, along with Sgt. Harris and the rest of Fireteam Charlie who were taking up positions just in case things went south.

Kyra blinked at the sight that met her eyes. It was an army alright that was now approaching the walls, but it was completely unlike the one they had just vanquished. Ranks of hundreds of warriors marched in disciplined lines, four abreast, all clad in clean blue and green hooded cloaks. Some of them, the officers among them she figured, wore resplendent golden-colored armor, magnificent crested helmets demarcating their rank, while other carried blue and gold banners gently fluttering in the wind. At the head of this force rode two figures, one mounted upon a beautiful white mare, the other upon a brown stallion. It was then that she realized these weren't Orcs or Uruks or even humans; these were Elves.

"Halt!" boomed Steve's voice over the megaphone he was holding, "please identify yourselves."

The Elf who rode in front, who appeared to be their commander, seemed to be confused by whatever "sorcery" Steve was using to amplify his voice, but he complied and drew his mount to a halt. The rest of the small army following him immediately followed suit, the whole army disciplined and trained to move almost as a single living entity. He spoke: "I am Haldir, Northern Marchwarden of Lórien. I understand your fears and concern, but I assure you that we come in peace."

Gandalf stepped forward and addressed him: "thank you for having come to our aid in this hour of dire need. The battle is over and the enemy dispatched, but there is still much to be done. We have urgent need of your healers. Some of Curunir's victims bear the taint both upon them and within them as well; Elven medicine will be needed to make them whole again."

Haldir nodded and replied: "my lady anticipated this, and ordered that we equip ourselves accordingly. We are prepared to help in whatever capacity we can. An alliance once existed between Elves and Men; we are proud to honor that."

Steve and Kyra exchanged puzzled looks. Steve then turned back to address the new arrivals: "uh... sure, thank you very much. Yes, we can use all the help we can get right now." He lowered his voice and quickly whispered to Gandalf: "so we trust these guys, right? I know they look different and much better than those orcs..."

"Now, now, you are an intelligent lad," muttered Gandalf back, "figure it out yourself."

Steve sighed. He then turned to face Sgt. Harris: "Sergeant, show Mr. Haldir here and his men to the triage center. I don't want any conflicts though between the Elven healers and our own doctors, so make sure they're treating separate patients." Harris nodded, and immediately ordered the rest of Fireteam Charlie to stand down and open the gates to let these unexpected allies enter the grounds of Isengard.

Kyra sat on the battlements for a few moments, watching the ranks of Elves march solemnly through the gates. It was then that she noticed that the second rider, the one who had been riding the white mare, did not follow the rest of the Elvenkind, but instead had remained at the gatehouse, dismounted, and was now approaching her. The figure wore a cloak and hood that covered its head, and Kyra wasn't able to figure out from the way it moved whether it was a man or a woman (though to be fair, from what little she'd seen of the Elves over these last few minutes, it seemed almost like the males behaved and walked and perhaps even looked similar to the females).

"You are Kyra, Daughter of Lynn, the one who found these prisoners of Saruman's?" spoke the hooded Elf with a soft and gentle, almost golden voice that betrayed the identity of its owner as female (or else a male with a really high-pitched voice. Regardless, it was a pleasing voice on the ears).

"Yes, ma'am," replied Kyra, curtly.

"I can only imagine this burden you are bearing upon your shoulders, child," said the Elf. Kyra winced. She was not a child, she was 29 and a hardened Marine who'd seen action across four planets by now! But, then again, if it was true that Elves could live thousands of years, then she probably would appear a child by comparison, and who knows how many wars this Elven lady must have lived through.

The Elf continued: "know this: I can read it in your face, the helplessness, the despair, the guilt you feel inside – perhaps for those you feel you have let down. But I can see too the fierce strength and courage burning within those eyes. You have a good heart; stay strong, and remember these words when doubt descends upon you... for there will yet be many trials yet ahead of us all."

"Um... sure, thanks," muttered Kyra, not knowing what to make of this but appreciative all the same.


	38. Battle Report 4

**From: [REDACTED]  
To: [REDACTED]  
Re: Update on Rohan situation + First Battle Report  
Time: [REDACTED]**

To Whom It May Concern:

I have attached to this email the preliminary battle report that we've prepared on the first of the two major actions that we and the UNCDF, working in concert with our native allies, partook in today. We are still working on the second one; we're still trying to compile exact numbers on the captives we've rescued from Isengard.

If I'm entirely honest, I can safely speak for all of us here at Beautiful Horizon when I say that we're all still in shock over what we've seen here today. It angers me greatly to think about all those women and girls and everything they were put through. The latest head-count is that we've recovered about 1,000 prisoners. The rest have died in captivity. What a senseless and obscene and completely unnecessary waste of human life. The UN would be downright fools now not to authorize unrestricted warfare against Mordor since Isengard was an ally of Mordor and must have only have conducted these atrocities on Mordor's behalf.

Rest assured, as I had indicated in my earlier email, we're going to make sure that The Company™ does all in its power to help retrieve, recover, and eventually resettle all of the survivors. And not necessarily because it looks good for PR purposes, but because this is the humane thing to do. It gives me great pride to know that no matter what people back home say about us, at the very least we value human life and would never sink to such low depths.

Will keep you updated as the situation unfolds, but for now, it looks like we have things under control.

Best regards,  
[REDACTED]

* * *

 **AFTER ACTION REPORT:**  
 **The Battle Of The Westfold**

 **§1. DATE:** Day 209 (concurrent with "Storming Of Isengard", see Footnote[1])

 **§2. LOCATION:** along the Great West Road, Westfold Region of the Kingdom Of Rohan, approx. 40km (25 miles) NW from Edoras.

 **§3. PARTICIPANTS:**

+The Forces of Isengard  
+Kingdom Of Rohan  
+Kingdom Of Gondor  
+United Nations Colonial Defense Force  
+The Company™

 **§4. OUTCOME:** decisive allied victory; Isengard forces annihilated.

 **§5. ORDER OF BATTLE:**

 **§5.1. Isengard: 15,000 total**

+10,000 Uruk-Hai infantry (incl. 1,200 arquebusiers)  
+3,000 Orc infantry  
+2,000 Dunland allied infantry  
+20 field guns  
Commander:  
+Capt. Lurtz

 **§5.2. Kingdom Of Rohan: 4,500 total  
**

+3,000 cavalry  
+1,500 infantry  
Commanders:  
+King Théodred  
+Prince Éomer  
+Princess Éowyn  
+Lord Erkenbrand

 **§5.3. Kingdom Of Gondor: 500 total  
**

+500 rifle dragoons  
Commander:  
+Capt. Faramir

 **§5.4. U.N.C.D.F.: 35 total  
**

+2 Falcon gunships (crew of two each)  
+1 Valkyrie Shuttle (crew of three)  
+17 Colonial Marines*  
+1 U.N. Inspector (Stephen Lynn)*  
 _* **Note** : these individuals did not partake in the battle itself, and were only passengers aboard the Falcons en route to Isengard at the time of the first bombing run. (See footnote[1])  
_Commanders:  
+Insp. Stephen Lynn

 **§5.5. The Company™: 1 total  
**

+1 Nexus-8 Synthetic ("VIDI")

 **§6. PRELUDE:  
**

On Day 201, the army of Isengard crossed the Isen River, formally instigating the invasion of Rohan. This army was composed of approximately 15,000 troops, comprising a mix of "Uruk-Hai" ( _Homo urukhai_ ), regular "Orcs" ( _Orcus servili_ ), and allied human troops provided by the tribes of the Dunland Region. The objective of this army was nothing less than the removal of Rohan as a participant in this war, thus depriving the Kingdom Of Gondor of a valuable ally in the ongoing war effort against Mordor.

Just 4 days earlier, the Kingdom Of Rohan was thrown into a political uproar by the assassination of King Theoden, which had been conducted by our operative in the field, VIDI, with the goal of framing Grima, Son Of Galmod, an Isengard mole serving in a high advisory position in Theoden's court. Just as planned, this action outraged and galvanized the Rohanian people for war, as well as passing the monarchy down to King Théoden's son and heir, Prince Théodred.

King Theodred, upon ascension to the throne, immediately ordered a full-scale mobilization of the Kingdom for war. Rather than taking what forces were available and riding out to try to stop the enemy from crossing the Isen, the King instead opted to wait in Edoras, the capital of Rohan, and levy additional troops, as well as planning to fight a battle much closer to home. In the mean time, only token forces and raiding parties were sent out to harass and delay the advancing enemy army.

This strategy of "defense in depth" proved effective: the Isengard forces were delayed during their march across the Westfold, and their supply lifeline strained. In the precious week it took for the host to cross the Westfold, Rohan was able to more than triple the amount of troops at their disposal, including the arrival of 500 dragoons sent from Minas Tirith, under the command of Capt. Faramir.

During this time, the wizard Gandalf came to our colony and was able to successfully petition Insp. Lynn into authorizing the UNCDF to assist Rohan. It was further decided that a simultaneous attack would be made on Isengard while the bulk of their forces were tied up in the Westfold. Insp. Lynn had been reluctant to authorize such an action ever since the disastrous failure of the first Raid On Isengard (please see the separate report prepared on that incident). Both our representatives and the UNCDF personnel had been pressuring Insp. Lynn to authorize a direct intervention; we believe that these combined with both the wizard's influence, as well as the latest satellite footage of the Isengard army rampaging across the Westfold and laying waste to any civilians who had not evacuated in time, was enough to finally push Insp. Lynn into making a formal commitment.

The day before the battle, our operative in the field, VIDI, met with and consulted heavily with the king and his command staff, advising them to adopt a battle plan similar to that used by the Parthian general Surena against the Roman army of Marcus Licinius Crassus at the Battle Of Carrhae in 53 B.C.E. In that particular historic episode, a smaller and primarily mounted Parthian army was able to decisively defeat a larger and primarily infantry-based Roman army by relying on superior speed, maneuverability, favorable terrain, and ranged attacks.

We noted the similarities between this scenario and the situation facing the Rohanians, but we also noted the differences; most importantly, whereas the Romans at Carrhae fielded primarily melee infantry and had no significant ranged units with them to counter the Parthian ranged units, the Uruk-Hai army in this case was equipped with approximately 1,200 firearms (see Footnote[2]), 1,000 crossbows, and 20 field artillery pieces (see Footnote[3]). Even though these firearms represent a primitive design with low accuracy and rate-of-fire, these issues would have been more than made up for by numbers, as well as secondary effects (such as noise, smoke, and smell, which would be demoralizing to any Rohanian forces unused to them). In order to ensure Rohan's best chance of victory, these weapons would need to be neutralized.

However, another major weakness of early firearms is their vulnerability to water, as damp gunpowder is useless. We proposed this idea to Inspector Lynn, and he agreed that using water to "bomb" the Isengard forces was an agreeable alternative to using explosives or other chemicals, due to both logistical and political reasons as well.

Valkyrie 01, under the command of Lt. Barnes, had just arrived on Day 204 on a routine supply run, bringing in fresh supplies, personnel, as well as spare machine parts and ammunition manufactured at our Crimson EquinoX colony on EE-L0. Valkyrie 01 was to depart for the return trip on Day 208. However, Insp. Lynn commandeered the craft for this battle.

 **§7. COURSE OF BATTLE:**

 **§7.1. Pre-Battle And Deployment:**

In the early hours of the morning of Day 208, Valk01 took off from our colony and skimmed the surface of the ocean directly to the west of Beautiful Horizon, taking on some 550 metric tons of seawater. Meanwhile, Insp. Lynn, along with Sgt. Rico and Harris, and Gandalf were in the process of boarding Falcons 01 and 02. Once all three craft were fully loaded and prepared, the squadron set off and flew due east towards Rohan.

Meanwhile, the armies of Isengard and Rohan were already preparing for battle and assembling themselves into formation. The Isengard army had been coming to the end of a night's march when they were alerted of the presence of the Rohanian army assembling just a few miles in front of it. With their enemies so close, the Isengard forces were unable to break and make camp, and so instead decided to go on the offensive.

The Isengard army deployed itself in a two-lined formation, with the second line supporting the first. The arquebusiers were concentrated into two formations, just to the left and right of the center, each one heavily supported by swordsmen and pikemen. We believe that the overall commander of the army was Captain Lurtz; however, we are unable to identify individual section and company-level commanders within the army, though whoever they may have been, their identities are now irrelevant.

The allied army deployed itself in approximately 4 parts: the right-wing, including all 500 Gondorian dragoons, under the command of Éomer and Faramir; the center, commanded directly by King Théodred himself; the left-wing commanded by Éowyn; and the reserve, commanded by Erkenbrand and Elfhelm.

 **§7.2. Air Assault  
**  
At 0705hr, Falcons 01 and 02 initiated the battle by performing a strafing run over the Isengard army, using their Markalite-12 medium pulse lasers to focus on taking out the 20 or so field artillery pieces in Isengard's army. The heat generated by each pulse caused massive collateral damage; not only were the cannons themselves destroyed, but anyone standing too close to it was also spontaneously combusted. Video footage shot by each Falcon confirms that the damage caused by the laser beams as well as just the sight and sound of each Falcon was extremely demoralizing to the troops, with several dozen already breaking and fleeing as early as the first run.

The Falcons were followed a minute later when Valkyrie 01 flew over the army, and released its entire payload of water onto the army (concentrated on the areas where the satellites had spotted formations of Uruks armed with firearms). Not only did this water-drop succeed in neutralizing Isengard's gunpowder, but it also yielded other effects as well. Video footage shot by cameras mounted on all three aircraft confirm that several hundred Isengard troops were killed or at least knocked out by the sheer weight of the water falling right onto their heads.

With its primary mission accomplished, Valkyrie 01 then returned to base, while Falcons 01 and 02 flew off to Isengard to drop off the Marines and initiate the Storming Of Isengard. The rest of this battle was (mostly) left to the natives to decide for themselves.

 **§7.3. Archer Attack  
**  
King Theodred, encouraged by the devastating effect the UNCDF air forces had had on the opposing army, gave the order to begin the attack. We had also timed our aerial bombardment to coincide with the sunrise, so that the Uruk-Hai forces would be severely disadvantaged by facing east, towards the sun. The battle plan called for the vast majority of the fighting to be carried out by the Rohanian cavalry; the Rohanian infantry consisted mainly of hastily-raised peasant levies, and were there primarily to serve as an emergency reserve, to bulk out Rohan's numbers and make them appear less severely outnumbered than they were, and to provide a shield behind which the cavalry could retreat to regroup.

In the left and center sectors of the battlefield, the Rohanian offensive would be spearheaded by horse archers; these ranged cavalry units traditionally use composite bows made of horn, wood, and sinew bound together with animal glue. These bows are not too different from those once used by the Mongols from Earth's own history. They are compact enough for use by horse archers, and they have a range of nearly 150m when fired indirectly. However, they are especially deadly at close range, and when fired directly from the 10 to 30m ranges, they were able to penetrate most of the shields and armor worn by the Uruk-Hai.

Furthermore, and again using the historic Battle Of Carrhae as a model, we had also advised the Rohanian forces (by way of VIDI) to prepare vast reserves of arrows to be kept on standby, and that they should at least retain several dozen riders whose sole purpose was to carry reserve bundles of arrows for restocking the archers.

At the left flank, the horse archers adopted a practice of riding right up to the enemy frontline, and then turning to the left at the last minute and charging along the front rather than into it. However, in the center, where there was less space to maneuver, the horse archers had been ordered to adopt a different tactic: riding to within close range of the enemy frontline, halting and firing arrows, and then quickly retreating as the enemy advanced, all the while continuing to fire arrows even while in retreat. This tactic is known as the "Parthian shot" as a similar technique was invented by the Parthians; historically, it was notoriously difficult to perform in the era before the invention of stirrups. Fortunately for Rohan, they are a culture that renowned for producing exemplary horsemen, and they also utilize the stirrup.

The end result is that at both the left and center, the hail of arrows put out by the Rohanian cavalry proved lethal and effective, and the Isengard forces were unable to respond in kind, as the "water bombing" had soaked both their powder stores, rendering the firearms useless, and had also soaked the bowstrings of their crossbows, severely reducing their effectiveness.

At the right flank, a different kind of battle was raging: instead of archers, here, the flank was held by the 500 Gondorian dragoons commanded by Capt. Faramir. The dragoons were able to quickly ride over to the far right flank, dismount, and form up into two ranks. The volley fire from the rifles was lethal, especially as the Isengard forces had nothing to retaliate with; even if their firearms and crossbows were still operational, they would have still been severely outclassed by the Rifles we suppled to Gondor in terms of both range and accuracy.

 **§7.4. Main Melee  
**  
The attacks by the horse archers and the dragoons, combined with the impact our own aerial bombardment had, was effective in tearing open gaping holes in the enemy army. Across all three sectors of the battlefield, left, right, and center, the ranged attack was swiftly followed up by a second wave of cavalry, these ones equipped mainly with lances and melee weapons. These heavy cavalry forces followed up and exploited the breaks in the formation made by the first wave. Cavalry charges in select places along the frontline proved devastating to the Isengard forces.

Because most of the effectiveness of cavalry lies in the charge, and because that advantage is reduced considerably once the rider is forced to halt and engage in melee, the Rohanians (who are well versed in cavalry tactics) would withdraw their heavy cavalry every few minutes, reform, and charge again. By that time, Falcon01 had returned from having dropped off the Marines at Isengard (although Falcon02 remained there to provide air support), and initiated a second strafing run while Rohan's cavalry were reforming for another attack.

In the end, the left and right flanks of the Uruk army broke and fled. The center stubbornly held and fought on little longer, but it too was eventually overwhelmed when, with its flanks gone and in full retreat, the Rohanian cavalry on the left and right flanks folded inward and converged on the flanks of the Uruk center almost simultaneously. Although some of the Uruks remained standing and fighting on, whatever was left of the army by then simply disintegrated.

 **§8. CASUALTIES:**

 **§8.1. Isengard: 80%**

+12,000 KIA or WIA  
+Rest of the army in retreat

 **§8.2. Allied Forces: 7%  
**

+100 KIA  
+300 WIA

 **§9. AFTERMATH:  
**

Casualties for the Isengard forces were catastrophic, suffering about half of the entire force killed or wounded in the battle itself, and another few thousand killed so far during the retreat. We expect that any wounded will be in no position to receive medical attention, and so may very well already be counted among the dead. We further expect the casualty figures to rise over the next few days as the shattered remnants of this army are pursued and destroyed by the vengeful Rohanian forces, especially after we inform King Theodred of what we have discovered at Isengard.

The staggering losses suffered at this battle combined with the loss of Isengard itself and the death of Saruman (see Footnote[1]) spells the decisive end of Isengard as a viable military threat. With the exception of scattered remnants of the Isengard army and the rest of the Dunlending tribes, the Kingdom Of Rohan will face no further military threats from the west, and is free to refocus its war effort eastwards, to the aid of Gondor.

We are certain that this victory will have important consequences for the political climate in Rohan, and for our own diplomatic efforts. First of all, this battle will be seen by the Rohanian people as a major victory for their new king Théodred, thus legitimizing his rule and ensuring greater stability in what would otherwise be a difficult and uncertain transitory period immediately following the death of a previous monarch, especially with the Kingdom at war. VIDI further asserts that based on her monitoring of the king's behavior and vital signs, this victory has been a tremendous psychological boost for the king himself.

The efforts we have made in assisting their war effort will win us tremendous goodwill among the people of Rohan (and will also help dispel any suspicion of our part in the death of King Theoden). While we deeply regret the untimely (but necessary) passage of his late father, we are pleased to see that Theodred is thus far proving to be a younger and more capable leader, and we look forward to working with him on the possibility of an agrarian colony in Rohan.

We are also working on a tentative program for the repatriation of most of the Rohanian prisoners we have rescued from Isengard. Most of them are suffering from some kind of physical or psychological health issues resulting from their captivity. We must also take into account factors such as settlement, food, water, medicine, transportation, and how many of them have families they can return to.

 ** _This report was prepared by [NAMES REDACTED] on [DATE REDACTED]. The information and opinions expressed within are accurate to the fullest extent of these individuals' knowledge. All information contained within this report is to be considered CLASSIFIED; under no circumstances are any of the information above to be made public unless first reviewed by our Censorship Board._**

* * *

 **FOOTNOTES:**

 **[1]** : we are in the process of preparing the separate report for the " **Storming Of Isengard** ", and we aim to have it ready later this evening.

 **[2]: Isengard Firearms**. It appears that during our last failed attempt, Saruman was able to acquire a Stacker Assault Rifle, and has made attempt to produce firearms of his own. It appears that he has settled on two particular designs: #1 is a matchlock arquebus similar to those from our own Renaissance period. Compared to our rifles, it is a primitive device with low accuracy and a very low rate of fire. However, it is relatively easily produced with the limited industrial base available to Saruman. Isengard's forces at the Westfold fielded at least 1,000 of these devices, and we found another several hundred or so in various stages of production at Isengard itself. #2 resembles a snap lock musket, and is a considerably more advanced firearm design than #1, and is reserved primarily for Isengard's elite forces. We found 200 of them at Westfold, and about another hundred of them at Isengard.

A third design we have encountered, #3, resembled #2 but operates off of an entire unique principle: instead of igniting gunpowder to propel a lead ball, #3 is instead loaded with some kind of magic powder that the wizard himself has prepared and that, when ignited, sends a stream of raw thaumic energy shooting out of the device. For some reason, Saruman decided to craft these guns out of brass rather than iron, giving it a golden appearance – we believe that this was either an aesthetic choice by Saruman to distinguish #3 from #1 and #2, or that brass serves some alchemical or thaumaturgic purpose we have not discovered yet, or that some limitation on Saruman's available resources necessitated the use of brass over iron. We did not encounter any of these "golden guns" at Westfold; it appears that #3 is a recent innovation that Saruman may have only have just developed in the last week, meaning that #3 was only put into production after the army had already departed.

In addition to these three designs, we found at least several other different models when we raided the armory at Isengard, but most of these appear to be prototypes that the wizard was experimenting with before settling on #1 and #2 as the standard-issue for his army. At least one prototype, designated #A, showcases Saruman's attempt to try to replicate the firing mechanism of a Stacker AR, but was abandoned – presumably because he realized that such a goal was impractical. We must begrudgingly commend Saruman for the effort though.

 **[3]: Isengard Artillery**. In addition to the personal arms, it seems that Saruman is also developing larger field guns that appear to resemble historical 12-pounder cannons from our history. Each one consists of an iron barrel mounted on carriage wheels and pulled by a team of about 10 to 12 wargs, and operated by a crew of about six or seven. The army at Westfold fielded at least twenty of these devices, and we have identified another thirty at Isengard, again, all in various stages of production, as well as several of the casts being used in the casting of the barrel. At one point, a half-completed cannon, lacking wheels, was set up behind a door for a one-shot ambush. Fortunately, our Marines were able to detect the device before it could be discharged, and incapacitated the crew.


	39. Battle Report 5

**CLASSIFIED: For Your Eyes Only**

 **AFTER ACTION REPORT:**  
 **The Storming Of Isengard***

 _* **Note** : we felt that the term "Storming" be used to better distinguish this battle, both in terms of objectives, tactics, and outcome, from our earlier and unsuccessful attempt. (See Footnote[1])._

 **§1. DATE:** Day 209 (concurrent with the Battle Of The Westfold, see Footnote[2])

 **§2. LOCATION:** Fortress of "Isengard", Nan Curunir, Misty Mountains Region.

 **§3. PARTICIPANTS:**  
+Isengard Defenders  
+U.N.C.D.F./The Company™  
+Native Allies

 **§4. OUTCOME:** decisive allied victory; Isengard faction neutralized; Saruman terminated; surviving prisoners rescued.

 **§5. ORDER OF BATTLE:**

 **§5.1. Forces Of Isengard: approx. 10,000**

+1,000 Uruk-Hai (see Footnote[3])  
+7,000 regular Orcs & Goblins (see Footnote[4])  
+2,000 Humans (see Footnote[5])  
Commanders:  
+Lord Saruman

 **§5.2. U.N.C.D.F.: 22 total  
**

+2 Falcon Gunships (crew of two each)  
+17 Colonial Marines  
+1 U.N. Inspector  
Commanders:  
+Insp. Stephen Lynn  
+Sgt. Esteban Rico  
+Sgt. Frank Harris

 **§5.3. Native Allies: 303 total**

+1 wizard  
+300 Elven warriors*  
+2 Elven leaders*  
*See Footnote[6].

 **§6. PRELUDE:  
**  
Ever since the disastrous Raid On Isengard (see Footnote[1]), Insp. Lynn has been reluctant to approve any further operations against Isengard unless it was an absolute emergency. Our operatives respected Insp. Lynn's decision, although we continued to keep an eye on the developing situation in Isengard. When it became clear that Saruman was making his next move against the Kingdom Of Rohan, we decided to dispatch our agent VIDI to Rohan to assist the Kingdom in whatever capacity she could, [including, if necessary, the execution of Order 27: the removal of any individuals deemed a liability to Rohan's war effort].

Insp. Lynn remained reluctant to approve a full intervention just yet, although he was willing to provide whatever other assistance he could in non-combat activities. Primarily, he approved the use of a Valkyrie shuttle to transport 500 reinforcements from Gondor to Rohan. Furthermore, with Isengard's forces crossing the Isen River and rapidly encroaching on civilian population centers of Rohan, and also with the extent of Isengard's infiltration of Rohan's political structure revealed [thanks to the successful execution of Order 27], Lynn was moving closer and closer to finally relenting and signing off on a full military intervention.

What finally tipped the balance was a visit from an unexpected but welcome visitor. It appears that the wizard Gandalf, who was himself held captive at Isengard, had come to our colony seeking our assistance. Gandalf met with Lynn and disclosed to him information regarding the possible presence of other prisoners at Isengard. Gandalf also appears to have given Lynn some kind of speech intended to appeal to his sense of duty. Our thaumometers indicate that Gandalf may have employed some minor practical thaumaturgy to "persuade" Mr. Lynn. (We are aware that thaumically potent life-forms such as wizards may employ small amounts of thaumaturgy to be more persuasive in conversation; however, we allowed Mr. Gandalf to meet Lynn nonetheless, as we had determined him to be non-hostile, and also because it would be greatly beneficial to our purposes here for Lynn to be convinced to make stronger commitments to the war effort).

Regardless, he finally relented and agreed to come to Rohan's aid. Specifically, it was decided that the main bulk of Isengard's forces would be left to Rohan to deal with (although the UN and The Company™ would provide a helping hand), while the UN would concentrate on the now under-defended Isengard with the objectives of liberating any prisoners, and of taking Mr. Saruman into custody.

Based on satellite observations, we estimated the total armed forces at Saruman's disposal to be about 27,000 in total, consisting of a mix of regular Orcs ( _Orcus servili_ ), goblins ( _Orcus montium_ ; see Footnote[4]), Uruk-Hai ( _Homo urukhai_ ; see Footnote[3]), and regular humans ( _Homo sapiens_ ; excluding prisoners). Of these, 15,000 troops were present at the Battle Of The Westfold (see Footnote[2]). Another 10,000 were present at Isengard at the time of our attack, although these were composed of primarily laborers and lower-quality soldiery. At least another 2,000 or so were not present at either battle, and these may have forces who were scouting, patrolling, or raiding elsewhere, or else running supply convoys out to the army out in Rohan.

Even with the numerous advantages afforded to our troops, even with the lessons learnt from our previous failure, even with the assistance of an accomplished thaumaturgist this time, and even with the fortress now relatively undermanned and undefended, the prospect of storming Isengard nonetheless presented a daunting challenge, especially as long as the wizard Saruman remained active. On the night before battle, Gandalf requested specifically that he be allowed to confront and apprehend Saruman on his own. We agreed with his request, though we also insisted on keeping Falcon02 nearby at all times just in case he was ever in need of air support.

 **§7. COURSE OF BATTLE:**

 **§7.1. Geography Of The Battlefield:**

 _*Please consult the map attached to this report.*  
_  
Some understanding of the layout of Isengard and the surrounding geography is necessary in order to understand the course of this battle. Isengard or "Angrenost" ("Iron Fortress") is the name of a large fortress that, according to our local sources, was built several thousand years ago by the Kingdom Of Gondor to guard the western entrance to the region of what is now the Kingdom Of Rohan. Isengard is located at the end of a valley called "Nan Curunir" ("Wizard's Vale"), which is located right at the northern end of the "Gap Of Rohan", the flat area that separates the Misty Mountains to the north from the White Mountains to the south. Several hundred years ago, Gondor, lacking the strength or political will to continue maintaining this outpost, handed it over the possession of the wizard Saruman.

The terrain immediately to the north of Isengard is rugged and mountainous, while the terrain around and to the south of the fortress is mostly flat. The entire area was heavily forested, until most of the trees were quickly felled over the last year to provide lumber and firewood to fuel the burgeoning industries at Isengard.

The headwaters of the Isen River are located somewhere to the northeast of Isengard. In the last year, Saruman has had a large gravity dam built in one of the valleys located just about a half-mile or so NE of the fortress, and a reservoir has since sprung up behind it, which we estimate to hold approximately 200,000 cubic meters of water.

The facility consists primarily of two structures: the 150m (500ft) tower Orthanc, and a 15m (50ft) circular curtain wall that encloses the tower and all the grounds around it, with a diameter of 1.6km (1 mile). Previously, the castle grounds hosted gardens and woods. In the last year, Saruman has removed these features and instead converted these grounds into the infrastructure needed to support a fledgling military-industrial complex, including armories, barracks, furnaces, granaries, training/assembly grounds, and several camps for housing both soldiers and laborers.

In addition, Saruman also took to excavating the grounds beneath Isengard, constructing a maze of underground caverns, natural caves, and interconnecting tunnels. At least one of these caverns was used to house the facility where the wizard secretly experimented in the creation of hybrids of Orc and Human – and employing large numbers of prisoners both living and dead as the subjects in these gruesome projects.

 **§7.2. Initial Air Assault:  
**  
At 0730hr, Falcons 01 & 02 entered Isengard airspace after flying in from having flown a sortie over the Isengard army at the ongoing Battle Of The Westfold (see Footnote[1]). Falcon01 (piloted by Lt. Capek) was transporting Fireteam Charlie, while Falcon02 (piloted by Lt. Fisher) was transporting Fireteam Bravo, along with Insp. Lynn and Gandalf. Both Falcons performed an initial flyby of the facility, strafing the area with lasers and missiles. These attacks were concentrated at key points identified by our satellites as priority targets - namely, at heavy weapon emplacements and structures known to be used as armories and powder magazines.

The defending forces at Isengard were caught completely offguard, but nonetheless many of them were able to rally and try to fight back against this assault. Isengard's anti-air defenses consisted primarily of ballistae, archers, and several cannons and a roughly battalion-sized contingent of arquebus-equipped troops who had remained at Isengard for training. These weapons are ineffective against the Falcon's speed and armor; however, they could pose a hazard to the Marines as they deploy, so in addition to the aircraft's weaponry, both fireteams also employed mounted M2134 MiniGuns to clear the landing zones of all hostiles.

Both Marine fireteams were then deployed via Fast Rope Insertion Extraction System (FRIES). Falcon01 then left the area to return to the site of the ongoing Battle Of The Westfold in order to provide assistance to the Rohanian forces, while Falcon02 remained in the vicinity to provide close air support to our boots on the ground.

 **§7.3. Fireteam Bravo:**

Fireteam Bravo, commanded by Sgt. Esteban Rico, were deployed in the area immediately to the west of Orthanc. Bravo cleared the western sector of Isengard of any resistance, which was a relatively straightforward task, as most of the forces accommodated here were laborers who panicked and fled. The few defense forces remaining here attempted to mount a defense, but were quickly dispatched. Having secured the surface of this sector, Bravo entered the cave network under Isengard by means of the large open-pit mine that had been excavated due west of the tower.

Bravo then split into two smaller teams, A and B, led by Sgt. Rico and Cpl. Kyra Lynn, respectively. The tunnel network under Isengard largely consists of two open pits, on the east and west of the tower. Two cross tunnels run east to west, connecting these two pits. Most of the remaining underground infrastructure of Isengard branches out from one of these two connecting tunnels. Bravo A took the south tunnel while Bravo B took the north tunnel. The plan was that both teams would regroup in the eastern pit, return to the surface, and rendezvous with Fireteam Charlie.

Like most battle plans, this plan did not come to fruition. Although Bravo A was able to make good progress and found no prisoners along the south tunnel, Bravo B ran into heavier resistance in the north tunnel, particularly concentrated around a large cavity that branched out north of the tunnel. Use of ultrasonic weapons, incendiaries, and flashbang grenades proved effective in the close-quarters and confined spaces. However, one group of hostiles encountered was equipped with some kind of flintlock firearm designed to fire thaumic energy projectiles (designated #3, see Footnote[7]), and Pvt. Lau was injured in the arm.

Bravo A, meanwhile, had found no prisoners, and when informed of Lau's injury, Sgt. Rico decided to risk no more Marine lives and ordered that Bravo A and B both withdraw to the surface back up the way they came. Cpl. Lynn, however, noticed that one of the caverns branching out to the north contained a large pile of several hundred human corpses, and decided to investigate. We have now confirmed that this gruesome mass grave contained the remains of many of those who died in Saruman's captivity, and was used by the wizard as a source of body parts for his experimentation. It has also been suggested that some of the human remains there may have been scavenged by the Orcs for sustenance, though we cannot confirm (nor do we wish to know) the validity of this claim at this time.

Unfortunately, the mass grave was only the beginning of worse to come. The next underground chamber contained some kind of primitive laboratory facility that Saruman must have been using for his macabre Dr. Frankenstein / Dr. Moreau-esque experiments in producing newer and improved breeds of Orc. While the techniques used by the wizard seem primitive and crude next to our more refined gene-splicing and organ grafting medical technology, it seems that he has been using large amounts of magic and practical thaumaturgy to compensate.

Located north of this makeshift laboratory that looked like something out of those old "Hammer Horror" movies starring Sirs Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, there branches out another network of caverns, these being the by-now infamous "Breeding Pits" of Isengard. It is here that we found over a thousand human prisoners, all females of child-bearing age, in various conditions, ranging from moderately healthy to near-death, and some in various stages of pregnancy as well. Bravo B was appalled by this find, as were the rest of all UN and Company™ staff on the planet when they were informed of it. However, Cpl. Lynn seemed to take it the worst by far. She appears to have suffered an emotional breakdown that caused her to immediately break off from the rest of Bravo B and pursue her own personal rage-fueled vendetta against Saruman.

 **§7.4. Fireteam Charlie:  
**  
Fireteam Charlie, led by Sgt. Frank Harris, were deployed directly onto the dam located NE of Isengard. Charlie proceeded to wipe out all local resistance, including a nearby worker camp. Charlie then planted remote-controlled demolition charges at the dam with the plan in mind of blowing up the dam and flooding Isengard once the operation was over. Pvt. De Vries and Martinez remained at the dam to guard the demolition charges.

The rest of Charlie re-embarked on Falcon02 (as Falcon01 had flown off back to Rohan to assist in the ongoing Battle Of The Westfold), and were flown back to Isengard, where they redeployed in the area due east of Orthanc. The plan was for Charlie to clear the area around the eastern mining pit and then provided assistance to Bravo and any prisoners they recovered. To this end, Pvt. Bhatia set up a secure sniping position just north of the pit, with Pvt. Marlohe serving as his spotter. The remaining five members of Charlie, incl. Sgt. Harris, proceeded to sweep the area around the pit, clearing out any resistance while remaining close enough to provide support to Bravo if need be. No-one knew then just how much support Bravo would be in dire need of.

Once Charlie was informed of the magnitude of the humanitarian crisis that Bravo had uncovered, Pvt. De Vries and Martinez were immediately ordered to disarm and remove the charges planted at the dam. Meanwhile, Sgt. Harris offered to head down into the pits to assist Bravo, though Sgt. Rico declined, requesting that Charlie remain on the surface and make sure that all enemy combatants were neutralized. Once De Vries and Martinez were done with disarming the demolition charges, they proceed to Isengard on foot to assist in the ongoing surface operations. By then, the Northeast Gatehouse was open due to the masses of Orcs and goblins fleeing the scene, and they were able to enter the grounds relatively unopposed.

 **§7.5. Duel On Orthanc**

After dropping off Bravo, Falcon02 then proceeded to drop off Gandalf on the top of Orthanc. The wizard respectfully declined the use of the same FRIES method of deployment that our Marines used. Sure enough, as he had indicated, Saruman himself was present there. The two wizards engaged in a no-holds-barred duel for much of the remaining duration of the battle, unleashing increasing levels of thaumic power and pyrotechnics at one another in a battle that raged across the top of Orthanc.

It seems that ultimately, however, Gandalf is the more powerful of the two, as he was able to best Saruman, disarming him in the process (both figuratively and literally as well). As he had stated to us previously, Gandalf intended not to kill Saruman, but to suppress and bring him into custody. Saruman remained defiant to the end. He was killed shortly afterward when an enraged Cpl. Lynn, having made her way back up from the pits and all the way up the tower, arrived on the scene and shot him at point blank range in the head with one of the "Firearm #3" (see Footnote[7]) that she had acquired while storming her way up the tower.

It seems that Saruman, utilizing his tremendous thaumic potential, must have been exerting some kind of control over his minions, for the moment he was killed, Bravo and Charlie both reported that remaining Orcs throughout Isengard broke down in a panic and began to flee en masse. It seems that this same extent of mind control did not extend over the Uruks and Dunland forces, though by then, the battle was decided.

 **§8. CASUALTIES:**

 **§8.1. Isengard:**

+About 4,000 KIA or WIA  
+Saruman KIA

 **§8.2. UNCDF + Allies:**

+2 Marines WIA  
+At least 5 prisoners died during our attempts to move them to the surface.

 **§9. AFTERMATH:  
**  
 _ **NOTE** : some of the details discussed below may be unsettling. Reader discretion is advised.  
_  
 **§9.1. Casualties:  
**  
Our forces suffered two casualties: Pvt. Lau was injured in the left arm by a shot fired by one of the troops equipped with a Firearm #3 (see Footnote[7]). Pvt. De Vries was injured during the final "cleanup operation" of the surface. Both have been admitted to the care of the head of our colony's medical center, Dr. Sadhwani.

However, given that Pvt. Lau's injury appears to be at least partly magically-inflicted, we have asked the wizard Gandalf and several Elven physicians to take a look at it. We will be sure to keenly observe what practices and techniques these individuals employ with regard to Pvt. Lau's treatment.

 **§9.2. Immediate Aftermath:  
**  
Insp. Lynn, upon learning of the true severity of the situation regarding the prisoners, immediately notified the colony and ordered the mobilization of emergency aid. Dir. J. Teller and Asst.-Dir. A. Cheong responded and had our colony staff prepare food, medicine, field medical equipment, tents, field generators, and water purification kits to be flown out to Isengard, as well as our colony's medical center staff, and 50 native laborers to provide manual assistance.

By 1000hr, Valkyrie01 and Falcons01 and 02 had returned to Beautiful Horizon to be loaded up. By 1200hr, all three craft had flown back out to Isengard and began the work of offloading supplies. The Company™ employees began setting up two large tents that would serve as the triage centers, and several dozen smaller tents to house the victims as well as our own personnel. Meanwhile, Fireteam Bravo was assigned to begin transferring the surviving prisoners to the surface. Charlie was assigned to stand guard and search the premises for any remaining resistance.

At around 1300hr, we detected another group of life-forms emerging from the forests several miles to the NE of Isengard and moving towards the fortress at a steady marching pace. We were initially alarmed by this sudden appearance, suspecting them to perhaps one of Isengard's numerous raiding parties that wasn't present at either Isengard or at the Westfold during the battle. Fireteam Charlie was ordered to set up defenses at the NE gate in case these natives proved to be hostile.

It was later revealed that these natives are actually members of the Elf species ( _Homo alfus_ ; see Footnote[6]) from the Elven polity known as Lothlorien, and led by at least one highly thaumically potent individual whom we suspect to be their leader. Evidently, these Elves must have somehow known that we were planning to attack Isengard since they must have left Lothlorien at least several days earlier. We believe that Gandalf must be in communication with their leader through some thaumaturgical means and may have informed them of our intentions. Alternatively, we believe that Gandalf may have been physically present at Lothlorien prior to coming to Beautiful Horizon, and that he may have disclosed his plans to the Elves, who then may have sent forces to Isengard to prepare and wait for our attack.

The late arrival of the Elves, only arriving a couple hours after the battle, may be due simply to the distances that they would have had to have marched from Lorien. Alternatively, we suspect that the Elves may have already have arrived earlier, and were simply waiting for us to do the bulk of the fighting. If the latter, then I must admit it was a somewhat annoying but clever tactic on their part. Regardless, we were relieved to find out that this force was non-hostile, and was in fact prepared to offer assistance. Seeing as our own staff at the scene of 70 personnel was quickly being overwhelmed by the task at hand, the addition of 300 Elven pairs of hands to our efforts was very much welcome.

We have spoken with the Elven leader, and she has agreed that her warriors remain at Isengard to assist us until all prisoners have been rescued and rehabilitated. The Elves have set up their own camp here at Isengard, albeit, at the opposite end of the complex to our camp.

As of the time of this writing, we have thus far have recovered approx. 900 prisoners from the Isengard Depths. We estimate that there are another 600 or so remaining underground, although most of these are those too sickly or incapacitated in some other way to move by themselves. We are now sending doctors and Elven physicians down into the tunnels to try to treat these individuals on the spot.

 **§9.3. Status of Isengard:  
**  
This battle combined with the destruction of the Isengard army at the Battle Of Westfold means the end the Isengard Faction as a participant and key player in the ongoing conflicts here on Planet EE-L5. The Isengard military machine was by and large a creation of Saruman alone, and his own death will ensure the effective dissolution of Isengard as a political entity. Those Orcs and Uruks who have survived and fled the massacres both at Isengard and at Westfold will now be leaderless and disorganized, and while they may resort to brigandry and raiding, they will no longer pose the grave existential threat to the Kingdom Of Rohan that they had just this morning.

In light of his actions, Insp. Lynn had approved a petition to the UN that Saruman be formally granted the legal status of _hostis humani generis_ ("enemy of humankind"), and that he be brought into custody to answer for his crimes against humanity (and that we may also reciprocate for his actions by conducting "scientific investigations" of our own into the biology of highly thaumically potent lifeforms). However, that point has been rendered moot by the sudden and unexpected termination of Mr. Saruman at the hands of Cpl. Lynn. While we sympathize with Cpl. Lynn and the plight of over a thousand prisoners we have rescued, I cannot help but admit that I am somewhat disappointed by the loss of what could have been a valuable specimen for our research purposes.

We have no plans at current regarding what is to be done with the grounds of Isengard itself. Once we have evacuated the entire area, we plan to perform a controlled demolition of the dam and flood this area. Analysis of the structure by our engineers have concluded that it was shoddily built, and that it will collapse sooner or later without adequate maintenance, which we cannot provide at this time. It is better to demolish the dam now, while the reservoir is small enough that the resulting flash flood will not pose too much of a danger to our riverside facilities located along the Isen River over 500km downstream of the dam, then to wait any further while the reservoir continues to grow.

Analysis of the area has proven that the Nan Curunir region is rich in a number of minerals, which partly explains how Saruman was able to support his military-industrial complex and build up his forces in such a short amount of time. However, we do not possess the manpower and resources at this time to set up a secondary satellite colony so far away from our primary colony on this world. For this reason, I advise that rather than trying to hold onto Isengard for ourselves, it might be more valuable to our diplomatic efforts here to formally hand over the premises back to Gondor or else to Rohan, as a token of good faith. We can always reopen negotiations for the mineral rights of this area at a later time.

 **§9.4. Humanitarian Crisis:  
**  
Over the last year, Saruman has been engaged in appalling crimes against humanity involving the systematic capture, detainment, rape, and scientific experimentation of some 3-4,000 human women. Of these, 1,500 were still alive at the time that we stormed the premises. Unfortunately, the rest have died due to the atrocious conditions in which they were kept.

In addition to these, we have since discovered that Saruman's projects have also involved the coupling of human males with Orcish females. However, it appears that these interactions were performed far more willingly, by Dunland males allied with Saruman and Orcish females under his influence, and that most of these subjects may have since fled or else were killed during our assault. However, the number of male remains found in the mass graves would indicate that some of these subjects may very well have been Rohanian males captured alongside the females and killed once they had fulfilled their usefulness to Saruman.

We are currently undecided on what is to be done with all the prisoners we have rescued. On one hand, we do intend to return as many Rohanian citizens to Rohan as possible as a token of good faith to King Théodred. On the other hand, however, this general objective is complicated by a number of specific issues. What is the best timescale to achieve this goal? Do these prisoners still have homes and families to return to, or were these all destroyed by Isengard? What is to be done for those who will require longer-term medical care that only we can provide? Will the trauma of their experiences make it difficult for them to resettle back into "normal" life?

Furthermore, we are uncertain of what is to be done concerning the Dunland women whom we have rescued. Due to the Dunlendings' alliance with Saruman, we are certain that the Dunlending women will not be allowed into Rohan or, even if they are, they will be received with great hostility by the locals. However, given the barbarity of Dunlending culture (this is, after all, the culture that sold some of its own women to Isengard), we are unsure of whether it would be wise to return them to their homelands either.

At the same time, however, we cannot maintain the refugee camp at Isengard indefinitely, as our resources and personnel are already stretched thin as it is between Isengard and our colony. For this reason, I propose the following: we will commit to maintaining this refugee camp for the next week. At the end of seven days, any prisoners who are healthy enough and have expressed a desire to return to Rohan will be allowed to do so, and we will arrange transportation to Edoras on one of our shuttles. The rest of the prisoners will be transferred to our colony, where we can provide better housing, medical care, and also psychological treatment as well. Those who are healthy enough will be offered employment.

At present, Beautiful Horizon has a population of 270 Terran personnel (UN and Company™) and 900 native laborers; even if a third of the liberated prisoners return to Rohan, we would still be nearly doubling the population of our colony, and thus we would have to step up construction of new housing and amenities as well as imports of food. However, the doubling of our colony's size could open up opportunities for further expansion into the surrounding and largely unpopulated Enedwaith region and perhaps the founding of a satellite colony near to Beautiful Horizon.

We are between a rock and a hard place right now as to what is to be done concerning this humanitarian crisis, but I feel that this solution is the best one on the table right now. We simply cannot abandon all of these prisoners here after only a couple days, nor can we simply take them to Edoras and pass them all onto King Theodred's shoulders. To wash our hands of this responsibility at this time would not only have a negative impact on us both for our diplomatic efforts here on this planet and for public relations back on Earth, but I also do not believe that any human being in either The Company™ or the UN would allow this to happen. While rehabilitating all of the victims we have rescued from Isengard will be a costly and time-consuming process, it is one we feel necessary for the reasons outlined above.

We are in the process of preparing a follow-up research paper into the exact biology and processes by which Saruman achieved his purposes. A full understanding of what has transpired here will be necessary in order to better provide medical care to those who have survived it. However, based on what we have already observed today, it appears that Saruman has employed some thaumaturgy in order to deliberately accelerate the gestation, birth, and maturation of each Uruk. Apparently, he has been refining the practices employed at his facility such that an Uruk can now be gestated in only a couple months, be born, and then rapidly grown and reach maturity within another couple months or so.

At least several of the prisoners we have spoken to testify that they have had to endure multiple pregnancies in this manner. Many more we have recovered are in varying stages of the accelerated pregnancy, and we have decided that, in the best interests and concern for the health and safety of the mothers, that we abort all of these pregnancies immediately.

 **§9.5. Research Purposes:  
**  
As stated, Saruman himself has been killed. However, much of his work has been left behind for our scientists to begin picking through. The main structure of Orthanc remains intact, and several of the wizard's laboratories have been undisturbed. During the battle, the UNCDF also captured several of these "magic guns" (officially designated #3; see Footnote[7]) that the wizard had been in the process of developing. Although primitive, we believe that there may be something useful we could learn from the wizard's own attempts to fuse magic and technology that could be of some utility to our researchers over at our Center for Thaumic Energy Research on Crimson EquinoX. We are preparing samples and scans of the facility and of the wizard's notes to be sent over at the earliest possible opportunity.

In addition to work on thaumic weaponry, it appears that Saruman has also conducted experiments into some primitive and highly thaumically-induced genetic modification. What we know, based on our observations and what some of the victims have told us, is that Saruman has somehow been able to rapidly breed upwards of 10,000 Uruks in the last year. Evidently, he has been employing some form of thaumaturgy to not only permit the cross-breeding of two different species, Homo sapiens and Orcus servilis, but also to accelerate the gestation and maturation of each resulting "Uruk", allowing an army to be bred in months rather than years. The resulting _Homo urukhai_ are much harder, better, faster, and stronger than regular _Orcus servilis_ , thus presumably justifying whatever expenses Saruman incurred in the whole process.

It has now come to our attention that at least some of the Uruks were born of a coupling between a male human and a female Orc. That said, it appears that the males used in these cases were mainly Dunlending tribesmen, while the female Orcs may have participated a little more voluntarily than the human females due to the low levels of psychic influence that Saruman have been exerting over the Orcs.

While we are appalled and aghast at the sheer scale of Josef Mengele-type experiments that Saruman employed, we understand that it is imperative that we try to learn as much as possible about the exact processes and techniques he employed so that we may better provide needed care to those victims who survived Saruman's project. We request that our head of research Dr. Mertesacker be transferred from Crimson EquinoX to Beautiful Horizon immediately.

 **§9.6. Dunland Relations:**

The inhabitants of the neighboring Dunland Region just to the NW of Isengard are a tribal and disorganized people, who allied with Saruman due to their traditional rivalry with the Kingdom Of Rohan. Dunlendings provided Saruman with tribute in the form of troops, manual labor, food, and women.

We speculate that the loss of so many Dunlending warriors and leaders at the Battles Of The Westfold and at Isengard, coupled with their uniting force in the form of Saruman, will throw the Dunland region into chaos. This may open up opportunities for us to make inroads into this area. The Dunlending women we have rescued from Isengard could serve as our ambassadors to this region once they have been rehabilitated.

 **§9.7. Elven Relations:**

The presence of the Elves, while unexpected, has been beneficial to our efforts, as it has relieved some of the workload on our staff, as well as having afforded us an opportunity to speak in person with a prominent Elven leader, and also to observe firsthand Elven thaumaturgy in practice. We are preparing all of the scans and video footage we have taken today to transfer to our main research lab at Crimson EquinoX.

 **§9.8. Political and Legal Consequences:**

As stated, Insp. Lynn had already filed a petition with his superiors that Mr. Saruman be declared _hostis humani generis_. Although his death has rendered such a legal status moot, it is still helpful for our purposes as it will prove to the public back on Earth that our actions here today are completely justified, and that we may use this to justify further actions we may undertake against other native factions in the near future.

We are exploring options regarding whether this legal status can be extended to the individual Sauron and the State of Mordor. On one hand, Saruman was an ally of Mordor and did perform his actions towards furthering the strategic goals of Mordor in this conflict. On the other hand, Saruman did act independently enough of Sauron that a case could be made that this individual incident did not come as a direct order of Sauron's.

On one hand, Mordor is at the current moment marching an army through the Ithelien region for an attack on the Gondorian capital of Minas Tirith, and local sources claim they have performed a number of war crimes towards Gondor in the past. On the other hand, the Ithelien region was largely depopulated and evacuated prior to our arrival on this planet, and so far the vast majority of the casualties on this front have been military rather than civilian. Furthermore, Mordor's armed forces are composed primarily of regular Orcs, and so there is no evidence of any human experimentation similar to those conducted by Saruman.

The UN is generally unwilling to resort to force as anything other than an absolute last resort. Our mission to Isengard was approved because of four factors: (1) Isengard's army was posing a direct, immediate, and material threat to the Kingdom Of Rohan as they were only a couple days or so from their capital and major population center, (2) Rohan was unable to defend itself against such a threat, (3) Gandalf had disclosed to Insp. Lynn evidence regarding the presence and inhumane treatement of prisoners at Isengard, and (4) Insp. Lynn may have also have felt partly responsible for creating this threat to Rohan due to his previous failure.

Applying these factors: (1) Mordor's army is as yet days or possibly weeks from reaching Osgiliath (and thus still some time from directly threatening the civilian populace of Minas Tirith), thanks in large part to (2) the effectiveness of General Boromir and the new tactics and weaponry employed by the First Army Of Gondor. In conclusion: we speculate that Mordor will have to march at least as far as Osgiliath, and thus be in a position directly and immediately threatening Minas Tirith, before the UN will approve a full commitment on the level of today's operation against Isengard.

Cpl. Lynn may potentially face charges for her actions in breaking from her squad to pursue a personal vendetta against Saruman, and unilaterally executing him on the spot rather than taking him into custody, as had been previously agreed. Although we are annoyed by the loss of a valuable specimen, we do sympathize with Cpl. Lynn's state of mind, and are prepared to offer whatever assistance we can to her.

* * *

 **FOOTNOTES:**

 **[1] "The Raid On Isengard"** was our previous attempt to attack Isengard, on Day 41, which resulted in a failure. Please see the separate report we filed on that particular engagement.

 **[2] "The Battle Of The Westfold"** : decisive victory of Rohan over Isengard's field army, occurred concurrently with this battle. Please see the separate report we filed on this engagement.

 **[3] Uruk-Hai:** when we first encountered these life-forms, we had initially classified them as a subspecies of the Orc species _Orcus servilis_. However, the shocking revelation that Uruk-Hai are genetically modified organisms created by (in many cases, the forced) crossing of _Homo sapiens_ with _O. servilis_ has since led our biology division to reconsider re-designating them _Homo urukhai_. We are in the midsts of preparing a separate and complete follow-up report on what we have learned about the biology of the Uruk-Hai, and how we may apply this knowledge in future.

 **[4] Goblins:** this battle represents our first contact with the "goblin" subspecies of Planet EE-L5. As with their counterparts on Planet EE-L0, it would appear that goblins are a related though distinct species from the regular orcs and are largely native to the mountainous areas of EE-L5, hence our designation _Orcus montium_.

 **[5] Dunland:** the region located immediately northwest of Isengard, on the western slopes of the Misty Mountains. The inhabitants of Dunland, known as "Dunlendings" among the indigenes, are regular humans who are reputed for being quite disorganized and tribal in nature, and hold a grudging enmity with the Kingdom Of Rohan. In recent years, Saruman has been making diplomatic inroads with the Dunland tribes - quite successfully I might add, as between 4,000 and 5,000 Dunland men served in his armed forces. In addition, a significant number of the prisoners we liberated were Dunland women, who may have been given to Saruman by their own tribes as tribute.

 **[6] Elves:** the arrival of about 300 members of the Elf species ( _Homo alfus_ ) at Isengard represents our first official contact with the Elven subspecies of Planet EE-L5. These forces arrived too late to partake in the main battle itself; however, they did lend assistance in rescuing and providing medical care to the prisoners recovered from Isengard, as well as providing additional security and assisting in the flushing out of any remaining Isengard forces. We are in the process of preparing a separate report on what we have learnt of the Elves from this encounter, their biology, their culture and politics, and their thaumic potential.

 **[7] Isengard Firearm #3** : as discussed in our previous report on the Battle Of The Westfold, we encountered several different types of firearms under development by Saruman, the three most prominent of which we have designated #1, #2, and #3. Of these, #3 is notable for operating not on blackpowder as the others do, but on some kind of thaumically potent mix prepared by the wizard himself that, when ignited, unleashes a stream of raw thaumic energy. None of these weapons were encountered at the Westfold, leading us to suspect that they were only developed in the last couple weeks since the army left Isengard. As a result, only a handful of these weapons have been produced so far, and have been issued only to Saruman's most elite units. We have acquired several of these devices for study.

 ** _This report was prepared by [NAMES REDACTED] on [DATE REDACTED]. The information and opinions expressed within are accurate to the fullest extent of these individuals' knowledge. All information contained within this report is to be considered CLASSIFIED; under no circumstances are any of the information above to be made public unless first reviewed by our Censorship Board._**


	40. Intermission: Earth 2

**80m below ground  
Somewhere around the City Of Greater Sudbury  
State Of Ontario, United States Of America  
Planet Earth, Sol System**

Deep beneath the ground, beneath the ocean, or sometimes suspended above ground, spanning the surface of the Earth, there lies a vast network of gigantic 20m-wide, reinforced steel-and-nanotube vacuum tubes. There, free of air resistance, 12-car hyperspeed maglevs could go screaming at thousands of kilometers per hour (well, technically not _screaming_ , since there's no air in these tunnels, so no sound). Thanks to extreme-precision techniques employed in the construction of these tunnels and the electromagnetic titanium-iridium-hyperalloy tracks lain within them, accurate down to the micrometer, it was a remarkably smooth ride.

At that moment, the train had just pulled out of Toronto Union Station minutes earlier, and was now accelerating rapidly. Director Dominic Kobori was sitting all by himself in Compartment 08 in the First Class Car – VacTrain™ always kept at least one cabin reserved on each and every train for any high-level Company™ officials who might be traveling last minute, seeing as The Company™ was the largest shareholder in VacTrain™.

He took off his suit jacket and his shoes, undid his tie, and kicked back in one of the four large, comfy leather reclining seats, and tried to relax. Nothing to do now but sit back and maybe try to catch up on some sleep on what would be a several hour train ride to his hometown. VacTrains could travel at incredible speeds fast enough to make the journey in only a couple hours or so, but this particular service would be making a stop in Seacouver, before then crossing the Bering Strait and the Sea Of Okhotsk, and then making another stop in Sapporo before finally heading onwards to Tokyo.

The passenger train had no windows; they were in a vacuum tunnel, so there was nothing to see, and even if there was, they were traveling so fast that it would be impossible to see anything other than a blur. Instead, each seat had its own in-built little holographic projector to try to draw the passenger's attention away from the fact that they were, you know, hurtling down a narrow tunnel faster than a bullet.

Dom fiddled with the controls in his armrest, and pulled up a holographic menu. Dinner would be served once the train departed Seacouver, but might as well start thinking about it now. At least on intercontinental train rides, the food was usually far, far better than on domestic ones, and the price of the meal was already included in the first class ticket. In any case, there'd be no time to stop and get a meal once they arrived because Mr. Fukyushitsu was already expecting him to report to him immediately over at SEAGA world headquarters.

Hmmm, yes, the menu today looked really good: boiled shiitake mushrooms in abalone sauce as an appetizer. Sashimi slices cut from the finest quality ice fish imported from the colony out on Europa. Zero gravity-grown Wagyu beef cubes, grilled, with sake-sweetened soya sauce. Vinegared Alpha Centaurian hanging meat moss – like most other Centaurian plant forms, meant to be quite refreshing and palate cleansing. Poached, genetically engineered Alaskan cod with avocado and wasabi aioli, with a selection of hydroponically-grown vegetables on the side. Higashi for dessert. All of it washed down with an extremely finely ground green tea powder mixed with exactly 80-degrees-Celsius Mt. Fuji snow-water, a bottle of which could sell for its weight in platinum. And all of it paid for by The Company™? Sure, why not! Such a meal, with _real fish_ , would be a luxury for most citizens of Earth. Dom himself could at least afford to splurge a little on his managerial salary, but even he usually tried to save by eating the same ersatz seafood made from textured and flavored algae just like everyone else.

The cabin door opened all of a sudden. "Mind if I join?" spoke the figure standing there.

Dom blinked. It was a young woman, about his age he figured, long light brown hair and hazel eyes, dressed in neat and tidy blue formal travel attire. If she was a Company™ mid-level manager like he, then of course she too would be entitled to a seat in First Class. But no, it wasn't her barging into the compartment unannounced that surprised him, it was the fact that he recognized her: she was Number 42. Last he had met her was at that board meeting back in November, where she was apparently some sort of expert spearheading the research into this "thaumaturgy" and the possible existence of (dare he say it?) _goddamn living gods!_ Oddly enough, she hadn't been present at this most recent meeting that Dom was just returning home from, but no one could forget her face after such a shocking and eye-opening presentation like that.

"Uh, sure," replied Dom. Number 42 said nothing as she made her way into the cabin, locking the door behind her. She took a seat in the leather chair directly facing him. "Um... sorry, I don't believe I got to formally introduce myself. I'm..."

"Director Dominic Kobori, SEAGA Games & Entertainment, ID number 8874-1717, age 29," spoke Number 42, "you were assigned 'Number 56' the first time you addressed The Board back in November, and 'Number 73' for today's meeting. I know, I've read your file."

"Okay..." muttered Dominic, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, "and you are?"

"Just call me Ellen," replied Number 42, "my last name is not important right now."

Dom was confused, but decided to just roll with it. "Uh, sure. Right. So... Ellen? Nice to meet you again. I don't believe I had the opportunity to compliment you on your presentation you gave back in November. Truth be told, I'm still finding all this stuff about 'gods' and 'another realm of existence separate from our material universe yet connected' to be a little... hard to believe. Honestly, I kinda find the theory about aliens kidnapping humans from Earth and terraforming these planets to be a little less far-fetched."

"You wouldn't be alone," admitted Ellen, "but thank you nonetheless. Allow me to return the compliments. I enjoyed your presentation today to The Board."

"Oh? I don't recall seeing you there."

"I was watching alright, via live-streaming."

Dominic frowned. "Wait a minute, I thought meetings of the board are supposed to be a secret affair. No cameras or recordings or anything allowed."

"I know," said Ellen, "I'm technically not allowed to do this, but I felt these are exceptional circumstances."

 _Exceptional?_ , thought Dom, _oh shit. Something tells me that I'm not going to enjoy what she has to say next_... "Look, uh, Ellen? This isn't about, uh, anything I said today, is it? If Number One didn't like my little spiel, then look, I'm sorry, but I feel that SEAGA isn't moving in the right direction right now and... uh..."

"No, not at all," she cut him off, "your presentation was just what we all needed to hear. No, I'm afraid we have far bigger problems to worry about."

She reached into her pocket, and retrieved a sleek, black, palm-sized device, and placed it on the foldout table. Dom took a good look at it and realized it was one of those special gadgets developed by the Office Of Sabotage for one purpose: disrupting any and all electronic devices within a ten foot radius around you so that no-one could eavesdrop on you. In a world where practically every waking moment of your life you were being spied on by one form of electronic surveillance or another, true secrecy was a resource worth its weight in iridium. Dominic gulped; just the fact that such a device was necessary at all was not a good omen at all.

"Mr. Kobori," she continued, "there's no easy way for me to say this, but I'm afraid I have no other choice. I have reason to believe The Board has been compromised."

"What?" remarked Dom.

"Someone on The Board is a traitor, and I need your help to find out who."

"Shit... okay... and you haven't reported this to anyone?"

"At this point, we must assume that it could be anyone... even the... The CEO herself."

"Fuck..." Dom sighed. "Look, why are you coming to me? I'm just a video game developer!"

"Because you're someone I know I can trust," she replied, "and that's a resource in precious short supply these days if you ask me. Are you with me, Mr. Kobori?"

"Fuck! Do I have a choice? Look, uh, Ellen? How do I know you're not just making this shit up? That this isn't just some secret test or something?"

Ellen reached into her bag and pulled out a folder which she then dropped onto Dom's lap. "Fortunately, all the fancy AI technology in the world can't hack good ol' paper. Everything you need to know is in that file. Feel free to run a background check on this information once you get back to your office, but I think it speaks for itself."

Dom said nothing, but opened the portfolio and began to read carefully through the documents presented before him, focusing on the parts she had highlighted and the annotations she had made. He didn't like what he was seeing at all.

"About two months ago, I received a lead from someone outside our organization," explained Ellen, "someone in the Technology Energy Conglomeration was trying to warn us of a possible infiltration."

"Who, TEC? Those machine-worshipping weirdos?" said Dom, incredulously, "how do we know they're not lying, that they're not simply trying to sow discord and distrust?"

"I thought so too at first, but it looks like at least on this one, our interests and theirs align. I followed up on their lead and they were right. What we know so far is this: right now, there are no less than ten and possibly as many as a hundred saboteurs and sleeper agents active across our different divisions and subsidiaries, across Earth and several of our colonies, including at least one among our staff in the EE System."

"So that's why we've been scaling back on some of our operations there..."

Ellen nodded grimly. "We know it is someone operating between the L0 and L5 colonies, but for the last few months, they've been covering their tracks far too well. We don't know who does this individual work for – for all we know, it could be Nova Corp., or, hell, even the North Koreans. But we now know how they were able to make it onto the _Horizonte_ , and how they've been able to evade our _Victory_ -class AIs all this time: someone on The Board is actively helping them."

Dom shook his head. "This is all a little... _much_ to take in."

"Tell me about it," retorted Ellen, bitterly, "I've been on this trail for the last few weeks now. You think it's easy on me? Not even knowing if I can trust my own team, people I've been working closely with for years? Before he left, my brother told me about you. You know him well. I've been watching you, Dom. I dunno if you're the ideal man for the job, but time is short and I've got no one better right now. We've been able to keep these bastards from doing any serious damage since that disaster back in November, but who knows when and how they'll strike again? Given the current state of things on those two planets, there could be thousands or even millions of lives counting on us!"

 _Fuck. Well, there goes the neighborhood alright_... Dominic could never before have imagined that he would be wishing for just another day of running to get to the office on time, being overworked and underpaid and shouted at by the boss and not getting enough sleep. But right now, that sounded like a pretty good deal. He pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming any of this.

"Well... shit. God dammit!" he groaned. He then closed his eyes and sighed. "I... I guess we'd best get started then. So... uh... where to first?"

"Fittingly, I thought Tokyo should be our first stop," replied Ellen, "I think your boss, Mr. Fukyushitsu, might have a few... inconsistencies in his records that require some explaining." It was then that she noticed that he was still staring longingly at the dinner menu. She shook her head: "and by the way, if you're thinking of getting the sushi, don't bother. For all we know, someone could be following us right on this very train, maybe even putting TRXY-180 neurotoxins in the food aimed solely at us."

 _GOD DAMMIT!_ , thought Dom, scowling. "So, uh, just out of curiosity..." he asked, slowly, "what if you had revealed all of this to me, and then I decided I had a change of heart?"

"Well, then I'd probably have to kill you," replied Ellen.

They both laughed.

"No, seriously," she interjected, "do you really want to know the answer to that question?"

"No," said Dominic, quickly.


	41. The Trial Of Kyra Lynn I

**The Trial Of Kyra Lynn Part I**

The Holo-Room at Beautiful Horizon's main command center had just been moved to a newly-completed and greatly expanded facility. Gleaming black panels covered all the surfaces within the room, the walls, floors, and ceilings; only the table and chairs in the center of the room were not covered in the special holographic interface. Kyra Lynn was the first to enter the room, dressed in her prim and proper Marine dress blues. She was followed close behind by Steve, dressed in his usual neatly-pressed suit and tie, and then by Sergeant Rico and Private Caldwell, also both in the dress blues.

"Whatever happens today," muttered Steve, trying to sound reassuring (key word there being "try"), "whatever they decide, I know you were only doing what anyone else in your shoes would have done. We were all there, we all saw what Saruman did, and thanks to those videos we submitted to the tribunal, so do they."

Kyra said nothing, but grunted faintly in agreement. Truth be told, she wasn't sure how well her dear cousin would argue in her defense, but it gave her some small measure of hope to see him and the sarge and Jeff too all present with her, ready to support her in the ordeal ahead. They too had all reacted with shock and anger when they found out about just what that son-of-a-bitch Saruman had been up to. The news had sent shockwaves across everyone. Word from Jan was that even the troops over on L0 were appalled and sickened when they heard what had happened, and L0 wasn't exactly the friendliest world in this godforsaken star system.

The problem was that of everyone in Fireteam Bravo, only Kyra herself had reacted the way she had, breaking off from the rest of her unit right in the heat of battle to go after the fuckhead himself. She just didn't know what had gotten into her to pull such a stunt. She couldn't even remember most of it, just that she had ended up on top of the tower after carving a path of destruction across half of Isengard. Granted, no-one had confronted her on this until now – she supposed that either they understood what she had been going through, or else just too busy and preoccupied with all that was going on, since there were now nearly a thousand traumatized refugees being cared for at the colony.

But just last night the summons had come in from Earth. She'd hardly slept or ate at all over the last week, but last night was especially bad as she knew that today was the day she would finally have to own up for losing control of herself. Deep down, she was ashamed of herself.

The four of them quietly took their seats. At once, the panels surrounding them began to glow brightly as a remote connection was established. Within seconds, the room around them had dissolved away to reveal... another room just like the one they were sitting in, only this time, the table they were seated at had doubled in size, with five others have seemingly have joined them, such was the quality of the holograms being projected around them.

Kyra blinked. There, seated across the table from them, sat Capt. Müller, accompanied by Lt. Archer, Sgt. Hawthorne, and finally Jan Adamsen. All of them were looking polished and resplendent in their naval dress blues. Jan looked different from last she'd seen him – colder, more detached, not quite the warm-hearted man he used to be. She could read it in his eyes that he had seen things she couldn't imagine. She wanted to talk to him, and she could see it that he wanted to too. But something told her not to, and so instead she remained silent, and looked to the others instead. Müller and Archer too were looking a little beleaguered, and even so too was Hawthorne, assigned as he was to what was probably the most peaceful planet in the entire system. Everyone could sure do with a vacation.

The fifth person seated at the table was someone not of the UN, Kyra knew, but one of The Company™'s: it was their lawyer, Sarah Jane Carson. Miss Carson as usual was always dressed all prim and proper, looking like she meant serious business.

"Captain," addressed Steve, casting a curious side-glance at Miss Carson, "is the Ambassador not joining us today?"

"Nein, Herr Lynn," answered the Captain, "Ambassador Alpers is in Altdorf at the moment, meeting with the Emperor. Although Frau Carson has asked to be present so that she may represent The Company™."

"Inspector Lynn," began Miss Carson, "I know that today's proceeding is one exclusively under UNCDF jurisdiction; however, The Company™ wishes to express their full support for Cpl. Kyra Lynn in these trying times for her, and to offer the full services of our Office Of Legal Counsel. God forbid that today's verdict does not come out in our favor, we are prepared to take this case _pro bono_ , and to represent Cpl. Lynn in the appeals process."

"Thank you, Miss Carson," replied Steve, "but... uh, I do not think that will be necessary. Besides, don't we have a separate hearing with the Security Council on the whole L4 succession crisis coming up soon? Aren't you busy with that?"

"Busy or not, The Company™ sincerely believes that _true justice_ must always be served," stated Sarah, "rest assured, we are prepared to go out of our way to ensure that Cpl. Lynn receives the fair and just, ahem, second chance she deserves. Besides, we also believe that ours is a pretty clear case. Any interactions and relations between The Company™ and the indigenous political factions of Planet EE-L4 was conducted justly and within the allowances of the UNASEC Code, and certainly no more or less intrusive to the indigenous peoples' rights than those that we have similarly conducted on Planets EE-L5 and L0, with entities such as the 'Empire Of Man'."

At this last statement, Kyra noticed the lawyer cast a side glance at Captain Müller, who was shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat.

"Okay... very well," said Steve, "still, in light of recent events, I recommend that The Company™ perhaps scale back on its, ahem, foreign policy on L4 until a verdict is reached – perhaps limited to medical supplies and economic assistance. Speaking of which, I trust that the emergency aid that I authorized is being put to good use."

"The Company™ will _of course_ always respect the ideals and recommendations of the UN," declared Sarah, nodding in agreement, "latest that Kovacs and Zimmerman can report is that the Stark and Lannister factions have reached some tentative peace accords now that the former has emerged victorious after that decisive battle. But thank you for fast-tracking the authorization for the emergency medical supplies. Together, we've helped save thousands of lives."

"Is Madam Carson's appraisal of the situation accurate?" asked Steve, turning to face Hawthorne.

"Yes sir," spoke up Sgt. Hawthorne, who had remained silent until now, "apart from the civil war down south, the situation is otherwise calm for now. We haven't had a major incident anywhere near the colony since the Battle Of Outpost B."

"That's... good to hear," said Steve, "so... shall we begin?"

Once all parties were reseated, the room around them began to glow brightly once more for the few seconds or so it took to establish a stable connection with Earth. And then, again, the appearance of the holo-room melted away as in its place stood the illusion of a new surrounding. It was a large room, glistening chrome surfaces covering the walls and floors, and a large rendition of the official seal of the UNCDF cast in chrome and hanging upon the far wall, gave the entire place a cold and official feel. Large windows dominated the lefthand wall, but they looked out upon the empty black void of space, and in the distance, the gleaming blue orb of Earth. This, Kyra knew, was Atlas Station, hovering serenely in geostationary orbit above Earth, the indomitable fortress and headquarters of UNASEC, and of the UNCDF.

At the far end of the room, just beneath the UNCDF sigil, there was a tall desk that stood upon a raised platform. Three figures were seated behind it. The one in the center was a woman with long black hair, dressed in a stark white naval uniform, and a persona that exuded coldness. This was Grand Admiral Miranda Thrawn, Supreme Commander of the UN Star Fleet, and of the UNCDF as a whole.

To her right was seated a stern man with a severe face, dressed in a navy blue dress tunic with brass buttons and epaulettes: General Hannibal Mills, Supreme General of the UN Colonial Marine Corps. To her left was seated a bookish and unassuming-looking Asian man in a neatly pressed suit and glasses: this was Graham Liu, Deputy Director of the Intelligence & Security Office (ISO). These were some of the most powerful people in the UN, and Kyra had the unpleasant realization there and then that her actions had drawn the wrong kind of attention to her...

Upon realizing just who it was they were in the presence of, everyone at the table immediately stood up, at attention. "Your... honors, this is most unexpected," mumbled Steve, who was just as surprised to see the Grand Admiral herself presiding over today's matter as Kyra was.

"As you can see, I've made some last minute changes," replied the Grand Admiral, impassively, "we felt that given the exceptional and extraordinary circumstances surrounding the entire Epsilon Eridani operation, this proceeding should perhaps be adjudicated directly by the highest echelons, rather than being referred to a lower tribunal first, and then perhaps having to undergo the whole process of appeals up to the highest level."

Kyra maintained her cool, but inside, her heart was racing. Whatever the verdict was today, that would be it. There would be no process of appeals, nothing. The word of this tribunal was final.

"May all parties be seated, save for the defendant," commanded Thrawn, and everyone complied at once. Kyra now stood alone – as far as she knew, she might as well be in another universe from everyone else. The Admiral continued: "Cpl. Kyra Lynn of the United Nations Colonial Marine Corps, ID No. KR-4219: do you know why you have been summoned today to this special tribunal?"

"Yes, Your Honor," said Kyra, quietly but firmly.

"Do you understand fully the pending charges against you?" inquired General Mills.

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Do you know what cause of action on your part has given rise to today's proceedings?" asked Director Liu.

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Inspector Lynn," spoke the Grand Admiral, "are any of the facts of this matter in dispute?"

"No, Your Honor," spoke Steve, standing up, "all relevant information is contained in the affidavit that I had prepared for this hearing, and is substantiated by the helmet video and audio recordings taken from all of our boots on the ground on Planet EE-L5."

"Very well," remarked General Mills, "would the defense like to make any statements to this court?"

"Yes, Your Honor," spoke Steve, nervously. He then turned to address the panel as a whole, cleared his throat, swallowed, and spoke, trying to remain calm: "Your Honor, Ladies and Gentlemen of this special military tribunal of the United Nations Colonial Defense Force: Corporal Kyra Lynn stands accused of two charges, those of the dual-charge of Absence Without Leave / Desertion Under Enemy Fire, and Summary Execution Of A Prisoner-Of-War, due to her actions during the military operation against the Rogue State Of Isengard on 28th April, 2155. In Cpl. Lynn's defense, we hold that the exceptional circumstances surrounding the battle and the nature of the discovery that we made that prompted this action on Cpl. Lynn's part, should absolve or at the very least mitigate the severity of the charges facing her.

"By now, you will be well familiar with the reports of that particular engagement. It cannot be disputed that the rogue individual known as 'Lord Saruman' among the natives, was a highly dangerous person. He was a powerful user of thaumic energy, with a very high thaumic potential, and a longevity that afforded him literally centuries of practice and experience in his art. He was an ally of the Rogue State of Mordor, which is also led by a highly dangerous and thaumically potent individual, one by the name of Sauron, and is currently engaged in a war of annihilation against our ally, the Kingdom Of Gondor.

"And worst of all, we now know that over the last year, Mr. Saruman engaged in a series of outrageous violations of human rights, in the systematic capture, imprisonment, human experimentation, and rape that he subjected some three to four thousand human beings to, all in the name of building a military apparatus with one goal, that being the material dissolution of the Kingdom Of Rohan and its peoples. For these reasons, myself and Ambassador Alpers have agreed to recognize Mr. Saruman with the status of _hostis humani generis_ , and..."

"Yes, yes, we already know the basics," interrupted General Mills, impatiently.

"I understand, Your Honor," said Steve, "though I felt it important to restate the factual basis for this defense. For the fact of the matter is that Cpl. Kyra Lynn is otherwise an exemplary soldier, a proud and strong warrior who has always upheld her Oath Of Service and lived by its ideals. She served the UNCDF ably on Mars and Alpha Centauri. She was one of the first responders to the Schiaparelli Massacre. The point is: the UN Colonial Marines are trained to be the very best of the best. But they are still only human. And something of the scale of what we found at Isengard is... well, see..." Kyra could see that even Steve was having trouble remaining composed, though he did an admirable job of it. "...it's just something you can never imagine you would ever see for yourself, up close and personal. If you had been there, you would agree that it was like something straight out of the Holocaust."

"And here we are invoking Godwin's Law again," chided Liu. "The defense is resting its case on a rather precarious assumption: that because it is normal for human beings to be upset, therefore Cpl. Lynn, a Marine who should be trained and conditioned to know better, should be absolved of her part in killing and depriving us of a potentially useful prisoner."

"Your Honor, it's easy to dismiss these sentiments as a 'precarious assumption' when one wasn't actually there," insisted Steve.

"Inspector Lynn, do not, for your sake, assume that we've never faced similar situations ourselves," seethed Liu, glaring at him.

Kyra could see that the ISO Deputy was annoyed, and that could not be a good sign at all. Steve, however, did not relent, but instead remained firm. "Your Honor, I do not wish to turn this matter into one of gender politics, but I nevertheless feel that males and females do respond differently to exposure to certain kinds of exogenous shocks. Perhaps the events of that day would have transpired differently had it been Sgt. Rico or Pvt. Caldwell who had been the first to stumble upon this lab facility - and both of whom are present here today to speak in Cpl. Lynn's defense." Steve turned to indicate to the tribunal the two men who were seated beside him. "In fact, Sgt. Rico and Pvt. Caldwell have both expressed a desire to be held accountable for some of Cpl. Lynn's actions, as they too were shocked enough by the find that they made no attempts to stop..."

"Sgt. Rico and Pvt. Caldwell are not the ones on trial here," cut the General, "Cpl. Lynn is."

The Admiral, however, calmly held up her hand, and the room fell silent. She continued: "If all that you say is correct, then we will not be needing their testimony to reach a verdict." She turned to face Rico and Caldwell: "we appreciate the loyalty and camaraderie that our fighting men and women have for each other. However, I think that the facts do speak for themselves. Do you have any final remarks you wish to make, Inspector Lynn?"

"I do, Your Honor," replied Steve, "even if Cpl. Lynn were to be found guilty of both counts against her, a sentence at this point would be pointless and maybe even detrimental to our cause. As we stand here, the Rogue State known as 'Mordor' is marching an army that our satellites have confirmed numbers over half-a-million towards the capital and major urban center of Gondor. And thanks to the UNASEC Code's prohibition against the use of orbital weapons unless as an absolute last resort, there is nothing we can do about this army until they are knocking on the gates of Minas Tirith itself.

"And that is not discounting any magical powers this rogue nation will be bringing to bear against us. The UN has come a long way in recognizing the threat that "magical" entities pose to galactic security. It's hard to believe that it was only seven months ago that we thought 'magic' to be little more than works of fantasy, and yet here we stand today, engaged in open warfare against no less than at least four or five magic-using factions. While the Anti-Chaos Resolution lies stalled, simply the fact that such a piece of legislation was even considered and deliberated upon by the UN General Assembly shows the progress we have made in accepting that not only is 'magic' real, but a genuine threat to our species as well.

"Right now, the situation isn't looking good at all, and we need every soldier we can spare. And Kyra is one who had proven herself above and beyond before. That is why, Your Honors, I am asking that Cpl. Kyra Lynn be acquitted of any and all charges against her, so that she may continue to protect and serve the human race, and live by the Marines' Oath Of Service."

"Thank you, Inspector Lynn, you may be seated," commanded the Admiral. "We feel that we do not need to hear any more testimony, as the facts of the case at hand are clear and unmistakeable. However we would like to hear from the defendant herself. Corporal Lynn, do you have any final words you wish to say?"

"Yes, Your Honor," said Kyra. She looked to her brothers-in-arms, who were all looking to her. She saw Jan first, those tired, cold eyes of his looked so different from the cheerful and bright fellow he used to be on the squad – and the man she still blamed herself for letting him fall that night months ago. She looked to her cousin Steve, quietly grateful for the heroic effort he was putting into standing up for her. She looked to Rico and Caldwell, her fellow squadies, and thought of all they had been through these last few weeks. And all the while, she thought she could hear again the words of the wise Elven lady she had met after the battle, in her head: _I can see too the fierce strength and courage burning within those eyes... remember these words when doubt descends upon you... for there will yet be many trials ahead of us all..._

She sighed and continued: "whatever I did on the battlefield that day, my actions were entirely my own and no-one else's. I'm not proud of what I did. But I hope this tribunal is willing to look beyond this one action, at who I am. It has always been my greatest honor to live by and uphold the ideals of the Colonial Marines, and that includes always respecting the authority of my superiors. I'm prepared to accept and endure whatever consequences this court deems appropriate for my action."

"Thank you, Corporal Lynn," replied the Admiral, "very well, that is all this tribunal needs to hear. We will now proceed to deliberations."


	42. The Trial Of Kyra Lynn II

**The Trial Of Kyra Lynn Part II**

Kyra didn't know how long deliberations would take, but given the attitude that the Grand Admiral and her lackeys had shown in wanting to get these proceedings over and done with quickly, it probably wouldn't be very long. For all she knew, they had probably decided from before how they would rule on her case, and thus the whole tribunal was there just for show.

"All things considered, I think that went, uh, pretty okay," muttered Steve, trying to be optimistic.

 _Pretty okay?_ , thought Kyra bitterly, _I'm on the line here and you're satisfied with doing "pretty okay"?_ For a second, she felt like telling him off, but she knew that would achieve nothing, and in any case, he probably was trying his very best for her. He was dealing with his own nightmarish workload that the whole refugee situation had created, so perhaps she should take a minute to consider that before judging him too harshly.

"Mr. Lynn," cut Ms. Carson, "I've never once doubted your skill and capability as an administrator..." She noticeably coughed and cleared her throat before continuing. "...but your litigation skills could perhaps use a little tweaking here and there."

"Well, we only just got the summons last night," replied Steve, defensively, "I don't suppose the Office of Legal Counsel would be hard-pressed to view the charges and the perimeters of the case before, review the facts of the matter, perform research into what precedent case law is applicable, and only then prepare a suitable defense to be presented before a proper tribunal that, as we found out just now, consisted of some real top brass here in the UNCDF, and all within the span of a few hours."

"Mr. Lynn, this is _exactly_ the kind of thang we over at the OLC are trained to do," said Sarah, "trust me: whatever horrors and demons and magic-users and whatnot we're facing in this system... are absolutely nothing compared to sitting the Bar Exam!"

"Y'know what, the lawyer here might have a point," added in Jan Adamsen, "I mean, mind-raping, reality-warping demons are one thing, but the bar exam? I'll pass on that! At least the daemons you can expel from the physical world back into whatever alternate hellhole universe they came from if you load enough dakka into their physical form. Then again, if there's one thing I've learned on this planet, you can never have enough dakka."

Kyra felt her heart lighten a little. It was good to see that somewhere in there was still the Pvt. Adamsen she knew.

"Jan, I'm glad to see the fall only knocked a few screws loose, nothing more," teased Caldwell.

Jan gave Caldwell the middle finger, and everyone, even Steve, broke out in laughter – well, everyone except for Capt. Müller; he was visibly annoyed by this, but said nothing.

For the next few minutes, whilst they awaited the verdict, at least some of them tried to diffuse the tension a little by striking up a conversation. Steve and The Company™'s lawyer, along with the Captain, were caught up in some discussion about the appropriateness of arms sales to the natives, especially given how apparently a deal The Company™ had made over on L4 similar to ones on L0 and L5 had ended up boiling over into some kind of civil war there, and steps were now being taken to try to avoid a similar thing on the other two worlds. She wasn't exactly following this conversation closely, because she had other things on her mind...

"Jan?" she asked, quietly.

"It's been a while," replied Jan, tiredly, "what's up? We haven't spoken for a week now, and I'm kinda worried this whole thing is eating you inside out."

"I killed him," she whispered, "I looked him in his eyes, and I took one of those weird magic guns he'd had his boys make, and then I put a round in his head. And then I threw him off that cursed tower of his."

"At least you gave him my regards then," sighed Jan. "Look, they're not gonna expel you from the corps for this. Worst you'll get is a slap-on-the-wrist. You're too valuable right now. We're all too valuable. Because the plain and simple fact is we're now three men down. Phil, of course, we know what happened to him. Tully was injured last week. We had a little scuffle here with some of the natives. Long story. And I'm here, cooped up with Dr. Stefano's little science fair project."

"Yeah... about that..." began Kyra. All she'd heard was that Jan and a few others had been attached to some kind of research project that The Company™ was running. Everything else was under wraps, though she had her suspicions.

"I can't discuss the specifics of it," answered Jan, quickly. Kyra had kinda expected that answer. He continued: "only that... well, see, I'm not the same person I used to be."

Before either of them could say anything else, the Captain interrupted them. "Incoming transmission," he warned, "it's the council reporting back." Everyone stood at attention as once more the holo-room around them began to glow and resolve itself into the shape of the courtroom. Once more, the Grand Admiral, the General, and the Deputy Director all appeared seated at the high table, and once more, the Grand Admiral wasted no time in getting to the point.

"We have reached our verdict," began Thrawn, "Cpl. Lynn, the first charge, that of AWOL/Desertion, has been formally dismissed." Kyra was relieved to hear this, and her body relaxed a little.

"In order to constitute an act of AWOL / Desertion Under Enemy Fire, certain elements of the definition given in the UNASEC Code must be satisfied," she continued, "but the evidence does not appear to satisfy these requirements. Recordings taken from the helmet camera of Cpl. Lynn confirm that at no point did Cpl. Lynn ever actually run _away_ from the battlefield, or away from the enemy. Seeing as the entirety of the grounds of Isengard could be considered a "battlefield", Cpl. Lynn did remain within its confines at all times. In fact, she ran _towards_ the enemy, if anything. The path from the breeding pits, back up through the tunnels, and up to the top of the tower was a long one with numerous enemies to be found along the way. Roughly half of Cpl. Lynn's total confirmed kills during the entire operation were during this period.

"A finding of guilty upon the charge of abandoning one's post usually requires some proof that the defendant had acted against a superior officer's direct order. Although Sgt. Rico had issued very clear and express orders prior to the battle as to the exact role that Fireteam Bravo would play, namely, the securing of the underground tunnels and search for prisoners, there is a well-known understanding that "no battleplan survives no more than five minutes contact with the enemy." Battlefield conditions do change, and thus do command that individual soldiers often times be able to operate by themselves, without direction from above, and thus must decide what are their objectives and by what means will they achieve them.

"While Cpl. Lynn did break off from her assigned tactical squad shortly after the discovery of the state of the prisoners that Mr. Saruman was keeping, there is no evidence that she did so in direct contravention of any standing orders. Her orders given at the start of the engagement were to "locate prisoners", which she did, and to "secure the area", which her actions, in eliminating further hostiles, did facilitate in the process thereof. At no point did either Sgt. Rico or Pvt. Caldwell attempt to stop Cpl. Lynn, and while this is most probably due to both of them reacting in shock to the nature and scale of the discovery they had made, that issue is outside the bounds of this matter.

"The UNCDF values discipline and loyalty among the ranks of soldiery, but we also value individual initiative. In light of the fact that there is no evidence that Cpl. Lynn in any way either violated a direct order from her superior, Sgt. Rico of Fireteam Bravo, combined with the initiative, determination, and resourcefulness she employed in pursuing an objective singlehandedly, and in light of her otherwise exemplary record, the charge of Desertion will be formally dismissed. It is so ordered."

"Thank you, Your Honor," said Kyra, slightly bowing her head.

"You can save the thanks for when we are finished," replied the Admiral.

"Wish I'd thought of that defense," muttered Steve, taking note of this down in his holo-tablet.

"I did say you should consider hiring us next time," whispered Ms. Carson.

"As to the question of the second charge," continued Thrawn, "even before Inspector Lynn and Ambassador Alpers took the drastic step of (posthumously) declaring Mr. Saruman to be _hostis humani generis_ , it was clear that Mr. Saruman was actively involved in this war as a leader, and not merely as a civilian. He was the active coordinator of both a military campaign against the Kingdom Of Rohan, and of a prolonged program of espionage and sabotage through a sleeper agent placed within the Rohanian political establishment.

"However, this alone does not excuse Cpl. Lynn's unilateral decision to kill him, as the UN does have various treaties in place, and indeed, many non-UN agreements such as the Geneva Convention, that dictate how enemy leaders and combatants are to be treated upon surrender. With these in mind, we must consider whether Mr. Saruman can legally have been considered to have "surrendered" at the time that he was shot.

"The video footage of the battle taken both by our own Falcon gunship in the area, and by The Company™'s satellites, shows a picture of what happened. It confirms that Mr. Saruman and the other individual, the one known as Mr. Gandalf, both appear to be extremely potent wielders of practical thaumaturgy in spite of their geriatric appearance that would suggest otherwise. Just minutes prior to his death, Mr. Saruman attempted to steal what we believe to be a highly thaumically potent artifact from the possession of Mr. Gandalf, and this artifact had the effect of severely burning Mr. Saruman's right hand. Mr. Gandalf took advantage of Mr. Saruman's incapacitation to neutralize him."

"By the way, a quick question," interrupted Deputy Director Liu, "where is this Mr. Gandalf? Did you not think to bring him in today as a witness?"

"Your Honor, Mr. Gandalf left for Minas Tirith, the Gondorian capital, shortly after the Isengard operation concluded," answered Steve, "I did want to keep him at our colony, so that we could learn more from his knowledge and thaumaturgical expertise. But he insisted that it was important that he be in Minas Tirith in person to assist in the preparations for the upcoming battle. So I arranged a seat for him on the next supply shuttle to Gondor."

"I see," remarked Liu, and Kyra could almost sense a slight wiff of disappointment in his voice, "of course. Our duty here at the UN is to help the indigenous population, not to wantonly detain them at our leisure. Please go on."

"As I was saying, there is some doubt over whether Mr. Saruman had indeed surrendered," continued the Admiral, "on one hand, he was disarmed, both literally and figuratively too. His staff, which The Company™'s scientists claim to be some type of device thaumaturgists may use to help channel and direct their abilities, was destroyed by Mr. Gandalf. He was in a very clear position of weakness and submission relative to Mr. Gandalf, with no clear way of fighting back.

"On the other hand, from the best we can tell from the surveillance footage, Mr. Saruman did not formally convey his surrender in a verbal manner. By all accounts, it appears that he may have remained defiant.

"We do not question the level of atrocities that Mr. Saruman committed. We also do not question the fact that even in a greatly reduced capacity, he would still be a dangerous individual. And we do not question the fact that ever since the surprising discovery was made last year of the existence both of exo-human civilizations and of the entire science of thaumaturgy, the entire Epsilon Eridani situation has presented the UN with a truly bizarre and unprecedented set of circumstances.

"However... we also do not believe that these factors alone should not justify the fighting men and women of the UNCDF making a habit of summarily executing disabled enemy combatants on the spot every time we catch one. We also hold that part of being a Colonial Marine and upholding the Marine Oath Of Service is the ability to maintain one's composure even when faced with high-stress situations. The unilateral decision to execute a head-of-state on the spot, without first ascertaining whether all other options such as detainment had been exhausted, is one strongly aggravating the defendant's predicament.

"The unfortunate fact of the matter is that we are at war, and this will not be the last time that all of us will be faced with such a choice. We should be wary of the necessity defense, lest it become overused to justify every killing, a rule rather than the exception. For this reason, we find that Cpl. Lynn's actions could very well meet the definition of Summary Execution Of A Prisoner-Of-War, which is forbidden under both the UNASEC Code and of the Geneva Convention.

Kyra's heart sank. She didn't even have to look around her to know how the others around her felt, as she could swear she could just feel the despair, even of those she knew were all the way over on L0 right now.

"But..." spoke up Thrawn. There was a long pause. "On the other hand, in light of your prior record of exemplary service, as well as the cold, hard, practical realities on the ground, therefore, I have placed you under a deferred judgment. We shall withhold any judgment of guilty or not upon this charge until the _UNSV Joseph Conrad_ arrives just over two months from now. If you do not perform any further acts of Summary Execution Of A Prisoner Of War that are not justified by the necessity defense, then this charge will be dismissed and your record and honor fully restored. However, should you act in violation of this, to be determined by a separate hearing, then we will enter a final verdict of guilty on this charge, and we will reopen proceedings as to an appropriate penalty for this action."

"Thank you, Your Honor," spoke Kyra, feeling a great weight lifted from her, "that is a fair and just verdict. By my honor as a Colonial Marine, I promise I will abide by these terms."

"I most certainly hope so," spoke the Admiral, narrowing her eyes, "we are indeed living in truly exceptional times. But that alone does not excuse the common fighting man or woman from their duties. In fact, we need our Colonial Marines to be on their toes more than ever before, to set a shining example of what the UN stands for, even in the most dire and difficult of circumstances. Let this be a lesson that you will take to heart. This tribunal is adjourned."


	43. Earth 3

**500m Above Ground  
Koto Ward, Greater Tokyo Metropolis  
Kanto Region, Island of Honshu  
Empire of Japan, Planet Earth**

It may have been his hometown, but there was something about the gleaming glass-and-crystal skyline of Tokyo that always amazed him whenever he came home, with its countless multi-kilometer glass-and-steel spires stretching into the sky and innumerable brilliant glowing LED signs adorning every surface, flashing every brandname and slogan in every conceivable color. And if one was lucky, on a good day one might even catch a tiny glimpse of Mt. Fuji in the background – otherwise obscured by the veritable forest of skyscrapers, its gleaming top still white only because the glaciers there were artificially maintained.

As expected, SEAGA had sent one of the company aero-cars to pick him up from the VIP arrivals area at the Vactrain station; in this case, a gleaming silver Honda D'Accord 2147-model sedan. The Honda Motor Company were now owned by Soni-Yutani, who were major rivals to The Company™, but damn if they didn't make fantastic cars and sometimes pragmatism (and not to mention some real killer discounts) took priority. This particular sedan had no driver, it was fully-automated, so Dom wasted no time in greeting anyone, and the vehicle was off the split-second he was seated and had fastened his seatbelt.

The commute by aero-car was a breeze as the vehicle's AI expertly guided it through the demarcated skylanes over the Minato and the Shinagawa, where the city's elite as well as essential services could operate freely from the gridlocked five-level streets and crowded commuter maglevs far below. Off in the distance, he almost swore he could hear the roar of the crowds gathered at Tokyo Colosseum, and wondered if this was the same big match he had heard being hyped up in the news media. Maybe. Dom wasn't exactly the biggest fan of titan-fighting, so he honestly didn't care who came out on top, though he knew at least several of his co-workers were, and probably had some kind of viewing party planned.

All this contemplation, he noticed, was probably a way of trying to distract himself from the uncomfortable revelations that had been made to him over the last few hours, and from the task that now lay before him.

"The target area is heavily monitored for all incoming and outgoing signals," spoke the voice in his ear. The micro-comlink she had given him was so small and light and yet clear and audible enough that it almost felt like he was hearing voices in his head. It continued: "once you're in, you're in the dark. But hopefully, it should be straight-forward. Give me five minutes. All I need you to do is keep Mr. Fukyushitsu talking that long while the interception transponder I've attached to your MyPhone is doing its thing."

Dom sighed. "Okay okay, I know what to do. It's just... why am I doing this again?" he whispered.

"I told you: your boss's office is shielded against external interception signals," replied Ellen, "nothing suspicious there, that's standard Company™ protocol for protection from external hacking attempts against our higher-level officials. But that does mean the only way to bypass these defenses is to attempt a hack from within. That's why..."

"No, why am I doing this? I mean, why _me_?"

"Do we need to have this conversation again?" she replied, a little annoyed, "look, I know my brother is not exactly... well... the most _dependable_ person around. And I usually wouldn't take a recommendation from him at face value. But right now, I don't exactly have the luxury to choose, and if you value the continued existence and integrity of The Company™ in any appreciable form, neither do you. Now, do me a favor and keep quiet. Keep talking to yourself and you might draw unwanted attention. Godspeed, Dom. Over and out."

Dom said nothing, and instead turned to look ahead; there, out in Tokyo Bay, there loomed the immense profile of Shimizu Megacity Pyramid-3. At over 3km in height, it was the largest of the dozen or so megacity urban arcologies constructed all around Tokyo and out in the bay over the last century as an answer to the city's ever swelling population density and resulting land shortages. SEAGA Games & Entertainment maintained their head offices and several of their creative and development branches in Block 38, just one of the many office blocks suspended within the pyramid's cavernous structure of open mega-trusses built from carbon nanotubes and tempered titanium-iridium hyper-alloy. Like some monstrous beehive of glass and steel, Dom could see hundreds of other air-cars darting around and about the massive structure, only the dedicated AI pilots operating each one keeping one from a mid-air collision with another.

The air-car came humming to a stop, hovering over one of several external docking platforms that lined the exterior of Block 38. No sooner had the vehicle touched down then Dom was already out, his briefcase in one hand, and his duffel bag for the trip to Toronto slung over his shoulder. It was ruffling up his suit jacket a little, but there was no time to change right now. Sure enough, standing on the platform was a familiar face: a tall but otherwise unassuming young woman, dressed in a simple grey secretarial attire.

"Kobori- _san_ , I trust your trip overseas was most productive and beneficial," spoke his greeting party, with just about as flat and unexpressive voice as one could imagine.

"Uh, yes. Yes, it was, thanks Satoko- _san_ ," he replied. He glanced at his watch, and scowled. He would be arriving five minutes before the meeting had been scheduled – which in Japan meant he was already late.

Without further question or comment, Satoko turned and strode off, leading the way ahead through the doors and into the main atrium of SEAGA headquarters. A dozen statues, each a dozen meters tall and crafted from titanium and brass, lined the atrium, depicting some of the most iconic and celebrated characters from the company's best-selling franchises across video-gaming, anime, manga, and toys.

At the far end of the atrium was the security check-point, and after that, the elevator hallway. Over a hundred other people were already lining up to go through security screening, but because Satoko had a security pass, she and Dominic were able to skip the line and get into the next available express elevator. The express lift took them all the way up to the sky-lobby interchange station of Block 38, Subsector D, and from there, a smaller "local" elevator took them to Subsector A.

"Hey, Dom!" called out a familiar voice as they emerged from the lift and out onto the office floor. "How was Toronto? Looks like you survived being fed to the sharks a second time."

Dominic turned to face the person walking up to where he and Satoko were standing, and couldn't help but smile a little. "I keep telling you, Gen, you should volunteer to go in my place next time. The CEO and the other directors are absolutely _delightful_ people to meet in person."

"Oh yes, I'm totally not worthy to stand in the presence of such divine beings," laughed Gendo sarcastically.

Gendo Kamiya was one of Dom's colleagues in their department, a dear friend, and a second-generation _Jinzo_ – both of his parents were clones. For over a century now, Japan had tried to fix its demographic shortcomings with liberal applications of cloning and genetic modification across the entire populace, such that today, a sizable portion of the entire nation's population were either clones, or else descendants from them. In spite of this, and in spite of the fact that the creation of the "man-made man" had not only saved the nation from the brink of collapse but had also made it a global leader in the multi-trillion Credit genetics and eugenics industry, _Jinzos_ were still widely discriminated against – not as much as they were maybe a hundred years ago, but still almost as much as a _Hafu_ like Dom.

"So anything major to report?" asked Gendo as he tagged along, trailing Dominic and Satoko close behind..

"Unfortunately, things have gotten a lot more complicated over on EE," muttered Dom.

"As if they weren't already," remarked Gendo.

Dom nodded glumly. "Look, I'm not at liberty to discuss the exact details, only that we'll all find out soon enough."

"I understand, I know it's all 'need-to-know'," offered Gendo. "So what about anything that pertains to us?"

"Well, first of all, we're gonna need to call the folks over at the bio and agri-subs," said Dom, "the EE folks have sent over several data-packets on the local fauna, including photographs and video-footage. We'll need to study these if we're going to get the creature models and animations for our upcoming _Total War_ just right. Problem is, they sent them straight to the dev-team at Reefer, and you know how anal they are about sharing anything, even if we are all owned by The Company™."

"Well, maybe we'll get to go there in person and meet the great Saxton Crowe himself," suggested Gendo, trying to look on the bright side. "He was awesome in _The Sea-Mutant Hunter_."

Dom shook his head. "Nah, man. Didn't you know? Crowe's on the _Conrad_ , on his way to EE right now - you know, probably to go FOITIN' with the local fauna. Sorry."

"A shame. Well, maybe his daughter's there. Bindy? I've seen her on the show with her father, and I gotta admit, she's hot! And legal!" laughed Gendo. "So... what's in those packets that the folks at Reefer are guarding so closely?"

"Well, they also contain complete DNA samples they want processed and synthesized immediately," said Dom, "I think there's one for 'natural organic silver hair and purple eyes and increased heat resistance and thaumic potential' that they want Bio-Cosmetics working on right away. Don't know if this would actually work here on Earth though, since we are a 'low magic environment' right now."

"So I guess cloning dragons and griffons is out of the question for now," muttered Gendo, "I'm disappointed."

"Yeah," shrugged Dom, "best they can manage for now they said is perhaps trying to identify what parts of the genes are useful for splicing with domesticated creatures to create, I dunno, household pets, or maybe hardier and more nutritious strains of cattle or something."

"Dragon milk. Mmmmm, lovely," remarked Gendo, pulling a face. "Now that I think of it, I'm dreading to imagine what kind of procedures they'll be offering once they get 'natural dragon genes' okay'ed for cosmetic geno-surgery. Yeck, we've got enough cat-people around here as it is."

At that moment, Satoko, who was leading the way and had until then been silent, stopped and turned around and addressed Gendo calmly but sternly. "Mr. Kamiya, please desist from any further interference with Mr. Kobori, your attempts to make casual conversation are impeding his movement."

"Uh, look, I'll drop by once I'm done with this meeting," said Dom quickly, "say, if you're free, let's grab a drink after work tonight, it's been a while since our last happy hour. See if Rei and Theg want to join as well."

"For sure. Catch ya later," said Gendo, and left.

From there, Satoko led Dominic onwards, deeper into Block 38. A third and final elevator, which could only be activated by one of the security chips carried by Satoko and the few others like her, whisked them away from his department floor, and right up to Suite A. It was a short ride, but Dom had enough time to make sure his tie was straight and tidy.

There, they were received at the reception area by yet another familiar face – a tall young man who was standing guard just outside the boss's office. This was Satoshi – Satoko's "twin brother" for all intents and purposes. By now, he and his co-workers had grown somewhat accustomed to their looming presence around the office, but even Dom was always a little uncomfortable around them, even when he didn't have anything to hide from them...

Mr. Fukyushitsu, as Sector-level Director of this particular division within SEAGA, had perhaps the largest and nicest (and certainly the most secure) office space in this entire block. Given the insane real estate prices all across Earth and _especially_ here in Tokyo, it was almost a crime that someone have an office this large. Large and sparse too: furnished and decorated in the barest minimum ascetic style that seemed out-of-place for someone otherwise working in the creative industry. Apart from the water fountain and the zen garden complete with a little Buddha statue that stood at either side of the entrance, and the large windows at the far end, the rest of the room was almost entirely white – practically sterile in appearance.

And sure enough, the man was there, seated at his desk, already hard at work at his personal data-terminal and barely looking up to acknowledge Dominic's arrival. His suit was impeccably tidy and pressed, not a wrinkle to be seen, and he was, as always, wearing white silk gloves, as if obsessed with keeping his hands clean to the point that he never shook hands with anyone.

"Honorable Fukyushitsu- _sama_ ," addressed Dominic, clapping his hands by his side and bowing respectfully.

"Sit down," barked the boss, sternly, and Dom immediately obliged. He continued: "Kobori- _kun_ , I have read your report. Is there any further business you wish to bring to my attention?"

Dom nodded discreetly. "Yes, _sensei_. First of all, I cannot emphasize enough how some among The Board are concerned over our plans to push ahead with _Total War: Epsilon Eridani_ , in light of recent events. These individuals feel that it would be too soon and inappropriate, given the current refugee crisis over at Beautiful Horizon; that the general public might see us as directly profiteering off of the media buzz generated by such a human tragedy."

"Of course," said the boss, "though if I am not mistaken, the UN's position was that they would wait at least a week before they reconsider when and how to make the news public. Perhaps we should expedite the announcement trailer for _Total War: Epsilon Eridani_ that way we may at the very least lock in a release date before media buzz inevitably shifts elsewhere."

"That gives us... two working days."

"Can it be done?" asked Mr. Fukyushitsu, narrowing his eyes.

"Sir, you are asking for much." replied Dominic.

"I am aware of that," replied the boss, "but I have little other choice. We simply cannot wait any longer. Unless you have a better suggestion."

"I... in fact," muttered Dominic, glancing at his watch, "...I do. Yes."

"Oh?" remarked Mr. Fukyushitsu.

"I can promise you that two working days simply isn't enough time to produce anything substantial," cautioned Dominic, "most of us in my cell are already working at full capacity. I dare not push them any further, not after what happened to Mr. Karoshi over in Sinjin's cell. And that's not even considering the quality of the end-product."

"If I divert two creative teams and one graphics team from Tomayasu's cell, will that help in any capacity?" inquired the boss, "We're not scheduled to release that game until next year."

"No, it would not," said Dom, "even if we double the number of people working on our team, it would still be a question of bringing the new people up to scratch and integrating them with our current team, and by the time that happens, we'll already be running late on our schedules, and probably have affected progress on theirs as well.

"I believe our best option to just stick with the original release schedule. Most of our more dedicated fan-base already know that we have this game in production for months now; we'll have to rely on them to have our back on the social media front if anyone tries to raise a stink about just how soon our game is coming out after this whole affair on L5 about that slave-camp. We might also have to offer a donation towards supporting victims of war over in EE – at least half-a-million Credits or so. No matter what way we go about it, there's no good option here, but I believe this option is the best one at hand."

Mr. Fukyushitsu was silent for a moment as he thought very carefully over Dominic's proposal, and it was probably at least another couple minutes before he spoke: "Very well, Kobori- _kun_ , in this case I defer to your judgment. But... I hope that for you to argue for keeping to the original schedule means that you do in fact intend to keep to it."

"We are, no question there, _Sensei_ ," said Dominic, "for the upcoming trailer and demo, all of us in my department will be using our own voices, so that we could save on time. We are assembling a voice cast of professional actors, but we won't begin recording until next month. Until then, I'll be doing the main V.O. work for both the English and Japanese versions."

"Whatever you feel is necessary. If there is nothing else to discuss, I suggest you had best get on with it. Have a nice day, Mr. Kobori," said Mr. Fukyushitsu, not once taking his eyes off of his monitor screen.

"Thank you," replied Dominic, bowing, and left. Outside, Satoko and Satoshi were there, waiting politely to show him out. Once Dom was back on his floor in his department, he set off at a brisk pace and didn't stop until he reached his personal office (which was much, much smaller – more like a cubicle with walls, but at least it was private), sealed the door behind him, took off his jacket, and sat down.

"So... uh... this thing still working?" he muttered, seemingly to himself. "Uh, hello? Ellie, you still there?"

"I'm here, Dom," came the voice of Ellen, "I'm just downloading the data from your MyPhone as we speak. Good job. It's not everything, but it should be enough to find out what we came here for."

"Anything useful?" asked Dom.

"As expected, Mr. Fukyushitsu is using a unique personal encryption key to safeguard all of his files being retained on his secure server. Fortunately, I do have access to the master override codes. As you can imagine, The Board generally doesn't like any of its subordinates keeping secrets without some form of a backdoor."

"Hang on," interjected Dom, puzzled, "if... if he is really conspiring against us, wouldn't he be using a different encryption key? Like, one that we can't simply override?"

"Yes and no," replied Ellie, "if I'm not able to break through with what I have, then we'll know for sure something is up. On the other hand, using an encryption key immune to mother's master override code is precisely the kind of thing that would have gotten him noticed far sooner. No, the safest way to avoid detection would have been to hide any sensitive data under zettabytes and zettabytes of junk data – and in separate files that only he would know the correct order to reassemble them." She paused. "Hmmm... he may have this order written down on paper somewhere, so that it can't be hacked by even by the most advanced AIs. My guess is that this won't be the last time I'll be in need of your services in accessing Mr. Fukyushitsu's office."


	44. Earth 4

**Unit H27, 223rd Floor  
Eternity-3 Residential Towers Complex  
Setagaya District, Greater Tokyo Metropolis  
Empire of Japan, Planet Earth**

"Ah! God damn it, you scared me!" cried out Dominic, sarcastically, as he strode into his flat and turned on the lights. Ellen was there, sitting at his desk and working on her holo-tablet, and looked up. She did not look amused.

"Obviously, you're not used to having a girl here," she retorted, snidely. She took a quick glance around the apartment. Clothes were cluttered everywhere, and the sink in his tiny kitchenette was stacked high with dirty dishes and empty take-out noodle boxes – obviously there from before he left for Toronto. Colorful posters covered three of the walls, and while some of these old anime and video-game posters were now collector's pieces, but all the same, their tattered appearance lent much to the disheveled look of the whole place. Even the little wooden stand in the corner where Dominic kept his gaming _katana_ and _wakizashi_ looked rundown and unpolished.

It was messy, sure, but it was home. It was actually pretty big for a unit right in the heart of Tokyo, though that was because The Company™ and its various subsidiaries usually subsidized most of the housing costs for its employees, and also because the windowless units located in the middle of the building were far cheaper than those units with windows (then again, not that Dom needed them anyway – he had his enormous twenty-foot flatscreen television home-theater and surround-sound system that covered the fourth wall and his virtual reality headset, and that was all he needed. In any case, those apartment units that had windows were just a big ripoff anyway because the only view they had was that of the building right next door, and the crowded street hundreds of floors below).

"Sorry, but don't you guys own, like, their _own_ vacation home here in Tokyo or something?" remarked Dom as he casually dropped his brief case and duffel bag down onto the floor next to him.

"Shanghai, actually," corrected Ellen, "we don't come to Japan often, only my brothers used to come here every year for TGS but then they would just take out a hotel room. And then trash it over the weekend. But I'm afraid this time, hotels are out of the question. This is the least conspicuous place. And it's free."

"So long as you don't mind the couch," shrugged Dominic as he took off his tie and strode over to the fridge. "What'll it be, Asahi or Sapporo?"

Ellen politely declined. Dom took a beer out of the fridge, opened it, and then plonked down on his comfy leather-bound gaming chair and took a swig.

"Impressive set-up, by the way," added Ellen, rolling her eyes towards the home-theater system that dominated much of the small apartment's floorspace, "I didn't exactly take you to be a connoisseur of such antiquities."

"Like her, huh?" beamed Dom, swelling with pride, "she's a vintage set, back from ye olde days o' 2016 or whereabouts. I know, hard to believe, that's practically the Stone Age! SEAGA was keeping several of these units in long-term storage at one of our warehouses - I guess someone had forgotten about it long ago or something, so we auctioned most of them off to various collectors and art museums. This one though? I figured that since I don't ever plan on owning a car or having a kid, I might as well splurge a little. Had to bring her here piece-by-piece, box by box. Yeah, she's nowhere near as good as any holovision, and it was a right pain converting most of my games to work on 2D and in the vastly reduced picture and sound quality, but all the same, there's a certain charm to these old retro-games."

"I'll say," muttered Ellen, "goodness, how primitive and inefficient tech was back in those days. Judging from the size of those power cables you're running, it must be eating up more juice than one of our whole colonies out on EE."

"Hell yeah!" laughed Dom, "I had to jury-rig the fusebox - probably illegally. Yeah, monthly power bills would be a bitch-and-a-half if SEAGA didn't cover those too – for both the TV and the air conditioner I have runnin' 24/7 because of all that heat she makes. Yep, they sure work us to death at SEAGA but at least they have the decency to cover most of our bills while we're still living."

"You know, it can't be that healthy," remarked Ellen, "living in this tiny room, with that enormous thing and all the power it uses. Must be giving off more radiation than Fukushima."

"I know, but hey, pretty much _everything_ gives you cancer in the end, right? All the radiation given off by holovisions and cell-phones and microwave ovens. All the food we eat that's artificially grown and genetically engineered. All the chemicals in our clothes and cleaning products and cosmetics and shit. All the nuclear reactors everywhere that power everything. Getting old. Hell, even just _living_ is really nothing more than just _dying slowly_ when you think about it."

"Thank you for that very elucidating perspective on the meaning of life," said Ellen.

"My pleasure," muttered Dom, and took another swig of beer. "So, what's new? Were you able to find anything?"

Ellen pulled up several saved files on her holopad and passed it to him. "I was able to crack Mr. Fukyushitsu's encryption key using the master override code," she explained, "so he was trying to hide his sensitive data rather than block it altogether. You can imagine it took quite some effort to sift through all that junk data, but I've found some damning evidence that he has been embezzling funds. Dunno if that necessarily connects him with anyone else just yet (let's face it, _everyone_ in The Company™ embezzles funds, even our loyal manager and directors) but still, that's Strike One in my book."

"So what's Strike Two and Three?"

"That depends on what information we're able to glean tomorrow," sighed Ellen. "I'll need you to arrange another meeting with your boss – something about acquiring creature animation programs from Reefer Pharmaceuticals, perhaps. Try to stay longer this time, at least half an hour. There's only so much data we can download and sift through at any one time, and if today's anything to go by, he does a good job at keeping it hidden."

Dominic shook his head. "Are you sure about this? Look, I'm starting to get a little worried here about this whole affair."

"Dom," barked Ellen, sternly, "I know it's not easy the things I'm asking of you, but we're all making sacrifices here."

"I know, damn it you told me that only a million times on the Vactrain over here," said Dom, annoyed, "still, though, you have to realize just what you're asking of me, alright? Fukyushitsu is my boss. Okay he's not the nicest guy around, but I've known him for years and he's a pretty decent fellow when he needs to be. And you? I only just met you! Yes, your brother's a dear friend and all, but look, for all I know, you could be an imposter! _You_ could be the saboteur here for all I know, trying to get me to spy on my own...!"

 _ **SLAM.**_

Without warning, the door to the flat was flung wide open, catching the two completely off-guard. A lone figure stood there, dominating the door frame, and when it spoke, Dom recognized that voice right away and felt a shiver down his spine.

"Mr. Kobori," it began, flat and expressionless, "pardon this intrusion, but Director Fukyushitsu has expressed his concerns over your recent activities." Satoko entered the room as she spoke, and then paused to look in Ellen's direction. "Directress E. Kovacs, your presence here is admittedly unexpected. Nevertheless, Master Fukyushitsu was very clear in his directives."

"Unit X23-88," commanded Ellen, quickly and urgently, rising to her feet, "initialize factory reset, authorization code Zeta Five Three Kilo Longing Rusted Seventeen Homecoming Freight Car!"

There was a brief pause. For a moment, Satoko stood still and motionless. And then, she continued to advance. Dom looked at Ellen, and she looked back, and the surprise and terror in her eyes was enough to tell him there and then that whatever she had just tried, it had failed.

"DOM!" shouted Ellen, "DUCK!"

Dominic obeyed, kicked his feet back, pushing his chair out of the way just in time. In one swift motion, Ellen reached down into her pocket and pulled out... a handgun. And not just any handgun either, but a Cygnus Security Systems 10mm Enforcer 7 with silencer – Dom played enough First Person Shooters to know one when he saw it. In a heartbeat, she clicked off the safety and squeezed the trigger several times in rapid succession.

 _ **Pchew,**_ rang the pistol, _**pchew, pchew, pchew, pchew, pchew, pchew!**_

It wasn't a very large apartment; only a couple meters separated the shooter from her target. Each bullet struck Satoko's body almost instantaneously and with full force, embedding itself deep into her torso and leaving a gaping bullet hole in her clothing. The seventh bullet struck the left half of her face, impacting with her eye. It shattered in a small explosion of glass and delicate wiring, and with it, the skin was ripped apart, leaving the left half of her face completely exposed, revealing the shining metallic skull beneath.

But if any of these had had any effect, Satoko didn't show it. Striding forward as if nothing had happened, her first action was to disarm Ellen. Dom could only watch on in horror as Satoko grabbed the pistol by its barrel and twisted it upwards. Ellen must have realized it was pointless to try to put up a fight at that point, so she instead let go and backed off, and tried to reach into her other pocket for what must have been her backup weapon.

Too late. Satoko moved with incredible speed and dexterity as she charged forward and punched Ellen, downwards, with enough force to knock her onto the floor. Ellen cried out in pain and gasped, but her opponent did not relent. The rampaging robot scooped her up off the floor, and then... threw her right at his home-theater system.

"NOOOOOO!" wailed Dominic.

Ellen struck the center of the wall-covering television, and the screen shattered. Pieces of glass, plastic, and circuitry flew everywhere. Ellen's body crumpled onto the floor, limp and motionless.

"YOU CUNT!" roared Dominic, "LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY T.V.!"

"Rest assured Mr. Kobori, I estimate that she is of greater use to our purposes alive than terminated," explained Satoko, blankly, as she turned her attention towards him, "I do not believe I can say the same for you."

By then, Dom could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Instinctively, he reached for the only weapon he could find nearest him: his _katana_ on display. Admittedly, the only time he had ever trained in the use of his weapon was in _Bayonet-Ya 53: Super Blood N' Gore Edition_ (a game he had helped develop, by the way), but that wasn't going to stop him. Gripping the sword tightly, he yanked it out of its scabbard with an audible _**shiiiiiiing**_ sound, held it high, and charged. With all his strength and uncontainable rage, he brought that sword down, hearing its blade whistling through the air.

Satoko had other plans in mind. Effortlessly, she held up her left hand and blocked the blade; the stainless steel blade stopped when it made contact with Satoko's hand with a weak _clink_. At the same time, she brought her right hand up, fisted, and punched Dom with such force that he felt the wind knocked out of his lungs; he cried out in pain, released his grip on the sword, and fell backwards.

Satoko was looming over him; she reached down, and grabbed Dominic by the neck with one hand... and then lifted him up so that they were now face to face, looking straight into that horrible mutilated face of hers, the synthetic skin on the left half almost completely shredded, exposing her inner workings. The Nexus-series endoskeleton was already downright disturbing to look at; the shattered eyeball where Ellen had shot her only made her look even worse.

Dom kicked and struggled and screamed – or at least tried to. It was hard to breathe; Satoko was tightening her grip on his neck with each second, albeit slowly, as if deliberately taking her time to prolong this affair as much as possible.

"My apologies, Mr. Kobori," addressed Satoko, ever politely, although her voice was starting to break, robotic twanging mixing in with her human voice.

"Uh... uh..." gasped Dominic weakly, struggling to breathe. His mind was starting to blank.

Satoko continued: "Director Fukyushitsu instructed me to convey to you his sincerest regrets, but alas he felt he had no choice, given the severity of the security breach you instigated today. Rest assured, it is nothing personal on my own part, I am merely..."

 _ **ZZZZZZZZZTTTTTTTZZZZZZSSSSSSSZZZZZZZZZZ...**_

All of a sudden, Satoko was cut off mid-sentence as her whole body began to convulse and spasm violently, releasing her grip. Dom fell back down onto the floor. He cried out in pain, but he was still alive, and able to breathe again. He gasped for air. The world around him had blurred, but slowly came back into focus as he took a deep breathe. When his mind cleared, he looked up to see just what was happening.

Ellen had managed to pick herself up and armed herself with, of all things, the television power cables. Mustering whatever strength she had left, she had forced the severed end of the cable right into one of the bulletholes in Satoko's torso. At that moment, Dom could see that she was standing right next to the apartment's fusebox, her hand on the dial; she was slowly turning it up to full power.

Satoko stood there in the center of the apartment, her body convulsing violently with the tens of thousands of amps flowing through her. Tiny arcs of lightning were shooting everywhere, bathing the room in an electric blue light; her hair sizzled and sparked, her synthetic skin and clothing was starting to melt and burn, and the air had become thick with the acrid smell of burning plastic.

And then, there was a brilliant flash of light, and every light bulb in the room exploded, and the entire room was plunged into darkness and silence; Satoko was gone, and with her, had taken out the entire building's power supply. Dom heard a dull _**THUD**_ as his would-be killer's lifeless metallic endoskeleton collapsed onto the floor.

Several seconds later, the room was bathed in a blood-red light as the building's emergency backup lights kicked on. Dom saw it: the titanium skeleton strewn across the floor, its polished skull staring back up at him. The apartment fell silent; all he could hear was himself and Ellen, both breathing heavily from the struggle, unable to speak, as well as the sounds from elsewhere in the building as people panicked from the sudden power outage.

For a few minutes, neither of them moved a muscle. And then at last, Ellen was the first to speak. "There's... a second one, isn't there?"

Dom nodded weakly. "Sa... Sa... Satoshi," he whimpered, "also... Nexus... uh... 6... I think."

Ellen shook her head. "We... have to leave... now."


	45. Earth 5

_***ALERT!*** New directives incoming..._

 _Processing..._

 _Unit X23-88 terminated. Unit X23-89 instructed to substitute and proceed with Order 27..._

 _Processing..._

"What? No. No, that's not possible..."  
 _  
Processing...  
_  
"Sister... what have they done to you?"  
 _  
Processing..._

 _Targets acquired..._

 ***TARGETS*:**  
+D. Kobori. Age: 29. Position: Project Director, SEAGA Games & Entertainment. Rank: 5. Directive: TERMINATE.  
+E. Kovacs. Age: 29. Position: Project Director, Advanced Research Division. Rank: Special. Other activities CLASSIFIED. Directive: valuable; APPREHEND ALIVE AT ALL COSTS.

 _Processing..._

 _Please proceed with Directives as determined most appropriate._

 _Affirmative..._

* * *

 **Corridor C, 223rd Floor  
Eternity-3 Residential Towers Complex  
Setagaya District, Greater Tokyo Metropolis  
Empire of Japan, Planet Earth**

The power outage combined with the low red glare from the emergency backup lights gave a new ambience to the otherwise familiar hallways and corridors of his home – one he didn't like at all. Across the rest of the floor and throughout the entire building, confused residents began to exit their flats and gather in the already narrow corridors, murmuring about just what the hell was going on. No one was panicking... yet, but everyone was visibly annoyed and perplexed.

Dominic was surprised. He'd never seen the hallways this crowded before, had never seen the faces of most of the people who lived on this floor. Everyone almost always kept to their own flats at all times, and he almost never used the common pool and rec center. To finally be seeing what looked to be most of his neighbors in one place at one time, and under these circumstances, it was a bit of a revelation.

Most of them were native Japanese, but there were a few _Gaijin_ and _Hafu_ too mixed in the crowd, speaking to each other in Japanese and English both, as well as a little Korean and Chinese that Dom recognized being spoken. On one hand, this was a good thing as he and Ellen would blend in a little better in the crowd. On the other hand though, facial-recognition software was such that trying to blend in with the crowd wouldn't really make a difference, no matter wherever they went. In the end, they could run, but they couldn't hide.

"Nexus-6 units aren't as durable as the 7s or 8s," explained Ellen as she led the way, moving briskly but not running so as not to draw too much attention to themselves... "had to fry her circuits; had to destroy any useful data she might have had on her at the time, but otherwise given the circumstances, we lucked out this time."

"You call that _lucking out?!"_ muttered Dom.

"You just tried to fight a Nexus unit with a _sword_ and _didn't die_ ," replied Ellen, impatiently, "I don't think her replacement will be as forgiving."

They reached unmarked door to the utility room at the end of hallway. Ellen held up her MyPhone to the door's keycard reader. Whatever special devices and programs she had installed on her phone, it hacked the reader immediately; the door clicked and swung open.

"We're not going all Bruce Willis here and escaping through the vents, are we?" asked Dom.

Ellen shook her head. "Air's filtered for every conceivable micro-particle and contaminant; I doubt a full human body is getting through." As she spoke, she crouched down beside one of the metal panels at the other side of the room, and opened it. This was one of the secure terminals used to access the building's mainframe. She pulled her Holopad out of her bag, and plugged it into the access point. She continued: "when I came in here this morning, first thing I did was hack the building's network. That's how I was able to access your flat." She frowned. "I should've been keeping an eye on the surveillance feeds. I would've seen her long before she got to your door."

"Hey, it's okay, we all make mistakes," said Dom, crouching down beside her, "besides, I can be pretty distracting too so it's not entirely your fault."

Ellen said nothing, but continued to type away feverously at her Holopad. Within moments, she was able to tap into the network, and pull up the live-feeds from several of the building's surveillance cameras on her tablet.

"There," she pointed out, "that's him. Looks like the lifts are still running on emergency backup power."

Dom looked at the open window she was indicating. Yes, that was Satoshi alright, there, standing in the elevator, completely unexpressive at all but merely waiting motionless as the lift carried him ever closer and closer to his target. Dom could feel his spine shiver. All these years he had worked for Mr. Fukyushitsu, had known the two units he kept as his personal aides, and now, just like that, his boss had decided without any remorse or reservation whatsoever that he had to die.

"You... you can crash the elevator, right?" asked Dom, quietly.

"Working on it," replied Ellen, "damn it, elevator controls are protected by an additional set of firewalls. I'll need a few more minutes to crack this."

Dom, however, reached into his jacket pocket and held out a small USB device. "This might help. Had to crack all of this building's security systems back when I modified my fusebox. Took me days, so I kept the codes saved case I needed 'em again."

"Well aren't you a nifty one," teased Ellen. She took Dom's thumb drive and plugged it into her tablet. Once she had downloaded the access codes, it took only a few microseconds more to open up the elevator controls. "I'm in. Got it. Express Lift 09. Hope this slows him down."

* * *

Mr. Higa Takeshi was not having a good day at all. He'd pulled an all-nighter last night, fourth one already this year, just to make sure his presentation today was flawless. Unfortunately, that was not enough. His boss, Mr. Chinpoko, had evidently decided that no matter how good or not it was, he was still going to give him shit over it. It was awful, being dressed down in front of the rest of the management team today. Mr. Higa was so demoralized after that affair that he forget about joining the rest of the guys on his floor for drinks after work. He had just stayed in his office late, and broke down once he was alone. He'd called his elderly parents down in Keihanshin, and his mom had scolded him for not working hard enough, for being nearly 30 and never being in a relationship, never getting anywhere in life.

And now he was just _finally_ getting back to his apartment only to find that apparently there was some kind of power cut going on across the whole tower. And whoever installed the emergency backup power on these lifts had evidently decided that the fucking elevator music was important enough to also be getting emergency power too, and so for probably the millionth time ever that he had ridden this goddamned lift, it was _Girl From Ipanema_ blasting over the loudspeakers. Still, though, at least the day couldn't get any worse, now could it?

All of a sudden, without warning, the elevator stopped. And then, a split second later, it began to move again... only this time, he could feel that this was in the opposite direction. It was falling. Faster and faster, gaining speed every second.

Takeshi knew right away that his short and miserable life was over. He screamed out in terror, though he knew it was futile.

* * *

"Shit," swore Ellen, "wrong one."

"Oh my god, there's a dude in there!" exclaimed Dominic. "Do something!"

"I know, I know!" stammered Ellen, "I'm working on it, dammit!"

* * *

They say that when one is facing death, one sees their entire life flash before their eyes. In the few seconds or so it took for the elevator to plummet down the height of Eternity-3, Takeshi could swear that time itself had slowed down. He could see it all now: the years he had spent in his dull and miserable little cubicle at work, slowly destroying his health and his soul and for what other reason than to appease some remorseless and completely inhuman dickhead of a boss, to be just another tiny cog feeding the vast and inconceivably eldritch monstrosity of the social order.

He couldn't even remember much about his childhood, not that there was much of one to remember anyway. Life was short, boring, pointless, meaningless. He had no friends, no-one truly in his life except his elderly parents – they would be the only ones to mourn his passing, because at the end of the day, he was just one out of seventeen billion people across Earth and the Colonies. And that was perhaps the most horrifying thought of death after all, that his entire life had meant absolutely nothing in the grander scheme of things.

And then, there was an awful screeching and grinding sound that pierced the air, and the elevator drew to a stop. Mr. Higa collapsed, sprawled across the floor, not knowing what was happening to him. And then, the doors opened.

"Ground Floor," announced the automated voice of the elevator, "have a lovely evening!" _The Girl From Ipanema_ was still playing, and for once, it was the most beautiful sound that he had ever heard. He could do nothing but cry as he quietly thanked the spirits, crawled out of the elevator, and kissed the floor of the lobby, must to the great confusion of all the other people standing there. He honestly didn't care.

* * *

 _New information incoming..._

 _Processing..._

 _ ***ALERT*:** Sudden change in vector heading and velocity of this elevator detected._

 _Processing..._

 _It appears that Directors Kobori and Kovacs have sabotaged this facility's vertical transportation system. Impact with ground imminent in 11.78 seconds with a velocity of 115.45 meters/second and a kinetic force of 26.656 Megajoules. Immediate abandonment of this vehicle highly recommended._

 _Scanning for possible escape routes..._

 _Escape route identified._

 _Processing..._

The figure standing in the elevator immediately crouched, and then jumped straight up, its head striking the escape hatch just above it with such force that it broke open...

* * *

"Dammit," murmured Ellen, "he escaped."

"Where is he now?"

"He broke out somewhere around Floor 129... there. He's forcing his way through the elevator doors there."

"Can't we slam them shut on him or something?"

"He's a Nexus-6, that's not gonna stop him."

"Shit... we needa get outta here!" Dom stood up. "We're near the fire exit."

Ellen, however, shook her head. "We'll never outrun him on the stairs. And the elevators are a no-go, he can hack them from any terminal just as easily as we can. That leaves just one option."

"What's that?" asked Dom, though somehow he had an idea of what she was planning and he was dreading it.

Ellen said nothing, but immediately stormed off out of the maintenance room, grabbing one of several black duffel bags being stored in the maintenance room on her way out. She stopped at the first apartment door on her right, held up her MyPhone up to the key-card reader, and unlocked it. Dom followed close behind.

The flat was empty; the owners must have been out or else must have been among those gathered out in the hallway. Ellen wasted no time in pulling out her pistol, and fired. She then adjusted her aim, and fired again. _**Pchew, pchew, pchew**_. Three armor-piercing round exited the barrel in rapid succession and struck the reinforced window in three separate places. From these three bullet holes, cracks began to snake their way across the glass. Ellen took careful aim, and fire a fourth round. This time, the bullet struck in just the right place that the glass pane shattered, shards of glass exploding outwards. A fierce gust of wind at these heights roared through the flat, sending papers and small light objects flying about, and Dominic instinctively grabbed onto the nearest wall fixture for dear life. _Oh God_ , he thought, _sometimes I hate being right..._

At several points around the exterior, each of the towers in Eternity Plaza had a couple dozen steel and nanotube cables that ran the entire height from the ground right up to the spire. These cables were originally installed on the first tower during construction, but at some point late in the building phase, someone decided to keep them as a permanent fixture to allow easier movement of maintenance and cleaning bots up and down the exterior with minimal disturbance to the residents within. Since then, the rest of the complex built later on would adopt this same feature, if mainly for keeping a consistent aesthetic across all of them. It was now clear that Ellen intended to abseil down one of these exterior cables.

Dominic knelt and crawled cautiously to the edge, and looked down. He felt his heart nearly drop out of his mouth and his legs turn to jelly. The ground was there alright... yeah, only about seven hundred meters or so down. Even the headlights from the aero-car lane below them looked distant and tiny. The winds was howling, despite it being an otherwise clear night; Dom almost wished it was a cloudy night, because then at least the ground below them would have been obscured...

Dom turned back to face Ellen. By then, she had unpacked the safety harness she had taken from the utility room, and was now in the process of putting it on and tightening the straps. Dom, however, was having none of this. "ARE YOU CRAZY?!" he blurted out, shouting to get himself heard over the roaring winds and city noises from outside.

"There's a Sky-Bridge down on Floor 100," explained Ellen, also struggling to make herself heard, "relax, we only have to go _halfway_ down."

Dom turned and looked back down again. The Sky-Bridge connecting Eternity Towers 3 and 4 was there indeed, but it looked perilously small and thin and easy to miss, and the ground was still another few hundred meters below that...

"I'm so gonna die," whimpered Dom, "oh shit. Yes, I'm totally gonna die."

"Next time, you may want to consider getting a flat on, you know, the _ground floor_ ," retorted Ellen, slightly annoyed, as she buckled her harness onto the exterior cable. She held her hand out to Dom. "Now quit whining, and come with me if you want to live."

Dominic looked down once more, sighed, and then took her hand.


	46. Battle In The Ice I

**The High Zar (I)**

The foothills of the mountains were gradually starting to plain out onto the rolling taiga. A light snow continued to fall; the ground was covered with a white blanket that reached up to the shins of lesser mortal men, but it did little to hinder the movements of those that now trode upon it. And indeed, at that moment, thousands of pairs of feet and hooves bore down upon it, crunching the snow into slush and churning up the ground beneath it - pairs of feet and hooves in every conceivable shape and size, some covered, others bare, some bearing some resemblance of what the mere mortals of this world considered to be "normal", and others twisted and misshapen far out of shape thanks to the Lord's many gracious gifts.

This was the warband of the High Zar Surtha Lenk, devout servant of the Changer Of Ways himself, and thus did he lead on his motley assemblage of his native Kurgan peoples, along with a few of the Norscans. He usually despised them, the pale golden men, had been taught from birth to spit down upon all those men who walked rather than rode. But these warriors had proven themselves time and time again to be the equal of any Kurgan rider, such were the powers that the Lord had seen fit to bequeath upon their suits of iron. And whatever the case, they were, for now, all united in their common cause. A new Everchosen had arisen, and soon, when the stars were right and the worlds in line, it would come time to wreak righteous fury upon the lands of the weak and un-ascended and...

 _ **CLANG**_.

Something struck his neck, something small but with sufficient force and speed that it embedded itself deep in his gullet, tearing open a gaping hole in his flesh. Such a blow would have killed most lesser warriors, but Surtha was by no means such a lesser creature, and it would take a lot more than this measly little arrow. No, he was really more annoyed than anything else at that moment - annoyed that evidently, someone must have gotten close enough to them to have loosed this shot. And that meant that his warriors were lapsing in their duties to have allowed this, and thus someone would need to pay for this, in one way or another. That, and he also noticed that this arrow was lacking in a shaft - it was just the iron arrowhead that was lodged in the flesh of his neck. He drove two fingers into the hole in his neck, in the hopes of pulling out the bolt, but then stopped and shrugged. No, he would leave this until after this skirmish. He would...

 ** _BOOM_**.

* * *

 **Near the Town of Svedora, North Lynsk River,  
Province of Vostroya Oblast,  
Foothills of the Goromadny Mountains,  
The Kingdom Of Kislev**

 _Kapitan_ Demya Raskalnikova would have smiled to herself were it not for the fact that the scene she spied below her position with her binoculars was downright disturbing, even for an Arcturus legionary like her. A couple thousand of them were heading in their direction, about half on foot and the other half mounted, and they came in all shapes and sizes, ranging from the _somewhat_ normal-looking humans, to the hulking eight-foot ones that looked like walking suits of medieval armor with Viking horns and raggedy capes billowing in the wind and wielding the absolutely gnarliest-looking battle-axes one could ever imagine. Some even appeared to be glowing, or to have fires burning in their eyes and faces. And towards the rear, she could make out several dozen larger forms emerging from the forest - they were each as large as that troll she had faced off against back on L5, but they were a helluva lot uglier too, with mangled and twisted horns and spikes sticking out everywhere and at odd angles.

Beside her, _Ryadovaya_ Giedre Valiúte lay sprawled across the ground, taking aim with her Dragunov rifle; the end of the barrel was still smoking, as hot gasses expelled from the last shot came into contact with the frigid air around them.

"Good shot," remarked Demya, surveying the scene, "now aim for the standard bearers and the captains. If they're Chaos Warriors, then let's see how quickly they fall into their namesake."

Giedre said nothing but nodded as she quickly loaded a fresh magazine of armor-piercing explosive rounds, adjusted her aim again, and fired several more times in rapid succession. Several more of the armored brutes fell or had limbs blown off or torsos blown wide open. The warriors standing around each one seemed confused and taken aback at first, but before long, whether motivated by panic or rage, they began to quicken their pace, now moving at a slight jog whereas before they were marching.

"Okay, seen enough, _deduska_?" remarked Demya as she turned to face the third person in the group. Right behind her stood the elderly man in the white robe and gilded armor, who in spite of his age seemed to certainly not be lacking in either strength nor zealotry...

"Impressive," spoke the Grand Inquisitor, "but we are still outnumbered, and they are quickening their pace."

Demya was, quite frankly, a little annoyed at how stone-faced and hard to please the Grand Inquisitor had been these last few weeks. Seriously, the fact that she and her brothers-in-arms of the Legion had come to this measly world from beyond the stars and had come bearing "sorcery" beyond the wildest dreams of most of these miserable peasants... still, though, annoyed as she was, she also knew better than to start another argument right here and now, and besides that, he did have a point. She clicked on her helmet radio, and spoke.

"Ike! What's the situation?"

"Captain Raskalnikova," replied the voice of their tactical A.I., "Lt. Rasolski and Lord Chenkov are in position for the most part, although some of the local levies are taking a little longer to organize into formation than expected. Apologies."

"He's putting it mildly," chimed in Rosso's voice over the radio, "uh, I think it was a mistake to give Comrade Chenkov that gift, he's being perhaps a little too eager in putting it to use, mainly for disciplinary purposes." As he spoke, Demya thought she heard a mild gunshot over the radio. She rolled her eyes. Rosso continued: "point is, we'll need you to hold out just a bit longer. These so-called 'Vostroyan Firstborn' are not exactly the fine soldiery that Lord Chenkov had made them out to be on the way here. Over and out."

"Ike, situation?" asked Demya, quickly.

"Captain, we have approximately two and a half thousand individual hostile units bearing down on our position," replied Ike, a hint of urgency in his voice. "ETA: 3 minutes. I recommend an expedited course of action."

"Hey, chill Comrade!" bawled _Ryadovoy_ Pavel Bukakhin, as he strode up to their position on the hill, " _Sasha_ and I will take care of thinks!" He indicated the heavy weapon he was hauling around with his right arm; with his left, he was clutching an open bottle of vodka. He quickly took a swig from the bottle, and then took up firing positions.

"Alright, big boy," muttered Giedre as she quickly rolled over to the side, out of his way, knowing what was coming next, "they're all yours."

* * *

 **Elsewhere on the Battlefield...**

War-horns were blowing. Banners and flags beat back and forth as the wind and snow billowed around them. Hundreds of feet were plodding their way through the snow and pounding relentlessly upon the ground. Captains and lords were shouting all manner of orders and obscenities both, in a dozen odd dialects of Kislevarin – which, sounding like old-timey Russian, was already hard enough to understand.

Lord-Commander Kubrik Chenkov had boasted that the levied _Streltsy_ units that the lords of the Vostroya Oblast could muster – recruited from "only the first-born sons of every family!" [sic] – were among the finest soldiery in all the Old World. Well, if that were the case, then Lt. Pyotr "Rosso" Rasolski dreaded to imagine what the _worst_ were like, given how many times he had witnessed the highborn Kislevite _Boyar_ administering his special brand of discipline in such a short time...

"Fantastic gift, Lord Rasolski!" hailed the Lord Commander as he strode up to where he was standing. "Three men were caught attempting to desert last night. Another two this morning. I let them all know personally that such treason, such _apostasy_ towards their beloved Mother Ice Queen will not be tolerated! For that, this... _Pistolet Makarova_ as you call it... it is quite a marvelous device! So much better than any handgun I have ever beheld, and I cannot thank you enough. Though, I must say..."

Rosso noticed that Lord Chenkov was now eagerly eyeing the even larger weapon that he himself had slung over his shoulder at that moment...

"No," said Rosso, bluntly, "whatever you're thinking, drop it."

The lord looked taken-aback for a moment, clearly unused to such directness from another, especially someone who, to his eyes, must have appeared little more than some lowborn bastard (which, to be fair, was actually a pretty accurate description, given the Legion's usual M.O.). Fortunately, Lord Chenkov seemed to remember after a moment that his Queen has given specific orders as to how the "Sky-People" were to be held in regard. Rosso was quietly thankful: she was a real ice-cold bitch, that was for sure, but at least she knew how to reward those who were respectful before her.

That's when they heard the clattering from the distance, punctuated by several explosions, and the unearthly shrieks and battle-cries of horrid things moving through the snow...

"What's that?" piped up Lord Chenkov, "yet another fell sorcery of the Ruinous Powers?"

"That, _Tovarisch_ , is the sorcery we call 'hand-portable GShG-8 Rotary Machine Gun with under-attached grenade launcher'," explained Rosso.

"Could not have put it better myself," chimed in Ike, over the radio. "Though it appears that the Chaos Faction ground forces are beginning to converge on their position in force. Immediate tactical withdrawal advised."

"Right," muttered Rosso, "Vici! You read me?"

"Affirmative, Lieutenant Rasolski," came another voice over the radio.

"Alpha Team is going to be needing a pick-up; double-time to their location at once."

"Affirmative," replied the voice.

Rosso turned back to face Lord Chenkov, together with with his command staff, were all still staring at him; the basic workings of the "Sky-People sorcery called radio" had been explained to them beforehand, and two sets issued out to the _Boyars_ commanding the two cavalry wings. Regardless, however, they never ceased to view him with bewilderment and some trepidation too whenever he used it, as if he were one of those magic-using freaks that this goddamn planet seemed to have no shortage of.

"Well? What to report?" barked Chenkov.

"The good news is that our forward team and the Inquisitor are being withdrawn as we speak and they did a number on the forward forces," explained Rosso, "the bad news is that the rest of the horde is now heading in this direction." As he finished, as if to compliment his statement, there came the distant droning of a war-horn, accompanied by the shouts and roar and shrieks, some that sounded within a reasonable degree of "normal" and others that sounded truly bizarre and unearthly. And then, in the distance, the horde appeared through the snow. Rosso held up his binoculars and surveyed the scene, and felt a shiver down his spine. Even one as tough and hardened as he couldn't help but feel some terror deep down at the sight of those ugly motherfuckers racing towards him - men and beast so foul and unnatural in their appearance that they almost deserved to die right on the spot just because of that.

Beside him, Lord Chenkov kept his calm, showing that in spite of his peculiarities and flaws, he was still a veteran of several battles against similar foes, and that was not to be discounted. The same could probably not be said for many of the men now holding the line, and so the Lord Commander immediately pulled out his sword in one hand and his Makarov in the other, pointed them to the sky and loudly proclaimed so that as many as possible could hear his last minute attempt at holding morale.

"MEN OF KISLEV! FIRSTBORN SONS OF VOSTROYA! The enemy stands before us! The Motherland behind! Stand firm and strong, for the lives of our wives and children and our beloved Queen rest upon your shoulders! DO NOT RELENT! DO NOT FLEE! For if we must spill our blood so that they may live one more day in peace, SO BE IT! Let them FALL upon our spears! Let them come to us only to be CLEAVED apart by our axes and swords! Today, the Motherland will run RED with blood, but it shall NOT be our blood, no, it shall be THEIRS!"

"UUURRRRAAA!" came the cheer that rose up and down the lines. Hundreds of arrows were knocked; spears lowered into place; swords unsheathed and battle-axes readied to be swung. Rosso himself knelt down and unslung the weapon he had been carrying over his shoulders until now. Alpha Team had done their job. The two cavalry wings were in place, including one under Lord Toschenko right across the North Lynsk River from their position. And Aslan and Vuong were there too, currently off preparing a little something extra special out on the far left flank, together with a couple "observers" who had come up from the colony. But now it was Rosso's turn to do his part.

"Boy!" barked Rosso, firmly. "Give me a round!"

Artyom was a fine young lad, one of several squires serving in the Royal Court who had been assigned to accompany the Legion as peronal retainers and assistants (and probably also spies to report back to their queen). Whether or not he actually was one, and whether Rosso could see himself getting used to settling in and playing politics at the Ice Palace, that was something that could wait for now. At his orders, the young man, who had been tasked with carrying a large pack burdened with several of the projectiles, quickly pulled out one of them and presented it to the Lieutenant. Rosso grunted in thanks as he took the missile, and rammed it down the barrel of his RPG-700. There was a _**Clunk**_ as the round locked into place. He then took aim. Through the sights, he spied one of the larger creatures in the distance, the one that looked like that big troll that Demya and Gidra fought back on L5 only several fucktons uglier. The targeting computer registered it immediately.

"CLEAR BEHIND!" he shouted, "FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

Despite the strange words he spoke, most of the native Kislevites seemed to get the message as the several or so standing nearest him dove for cover.

 _ **FWOOM**_. The RPG fired, a jet of hot flames and smoke shooting out the rear as the missile hissed and rocketed ahead, locking on towards its intended target. In the distance, there was an explosion that tore one of the larger creatures apart limb to limb, as well as engulfing several of the smaller hostiles around it.

 _One down, only another couple thousand to go_. "Another! Fragmentation round this time - it's the one with the red band!" commanded Rosso, and Artyom obliged.


	47. Battle In The Ice II

**Across the North Lynsk River...**

Specialist Aslan Ganzorig could hear the growls and roars and battle-cries from the approaching horde, and it unnerved him - but not as much as the damn little power regulator he was fumbling with, trying to make sure it was bolted on in the correct manner. At that moment, he and Victor Vuong had been assigned to this sector, some ways away from the main battlefield, to provide support though not exactly in the way they would usually have. For at that moment, Aslan was making the final adjustments to a large object that stood in front of him.

The device in question was a bizarre one: a long steel cylinder, about half a meter in diameter and three in length, had been jury-rigged onto the rear hardpoint of one of the colony's Wild Cat Light Utility Vehicles, in place of the usual gun turret. There were large openings at either end, and all manner of blinking lights and wires and stuff running out of it, some of which eventually merged into a thick power cable that ran out to the field generator that had been set up separately and was now humming away. Some of the other wires ran out to the three or four heavy-duty field laptops that had been set up about a dozen meters away, as some kind of field control and monitoring station. And right now, he was aware of the six other people gathered there, watching him and Vuong as they worked.

"A little more," commanded Doctor Savage, "a little more... stop! That's it. Perfect!" As per the Doc's instructions, Aslan made the requested modifications to the component he was working on.

"I don't see why we couldn't have installed the Thaumic Regulator back in the lab before we left," muttered Doctor Hyneman, who was standing beside Savage.

"One of the problems with working in areas of higher-than-average background Thaumic radiation levels is that you can't know ahead of time how it'll affect individual components," explained Doctor Richard Garrett, who had also joined the group. The doctor had exchanged his usual lab-coat for a gore-tex winter jacket and looked the most well adjusted of the group for today's little field experiment. He continued: "the rad-levels in this area are already several hundred Milli-Pratchetts above what we have back at the colony, seeing as we are that much closer to this planet's North Polar Anomaly. Final modifications had to wait until we were actually here and able to gauge local conditions and adjust accordingly." He consulted his Holo-Tablet as he spoke. He frowned. "Hmmm, yes, see, ambient Thaumic levels are already starting to climb - no doubt caused by the approaching Chaos forces." He turned to speak to the fourth member of the group, the universal translator he carried conveying his words in German, which to the natives sounded close enough to their native Reikspiel: "Lord Gelt, if you would be willing to perform a last minute inspection."

Lord Balthasar Gelt, Supreme Patriarch of the whatever or something (Aslan couldn't exactly recall what since it seemed everyone in this whole damned system had to have some fancy title or nickname or something), said nothing, but obliged as he strode right up to where Aslan was standing. Gelt placed a hand upon the machine, and Aslan noticed a small spike on the thaumometer next to him. At last, Gelt spoke: "all of these... 'electro-runes' as you call them... yes, they are arranged exactly as per my specifications. Though I cannot promise what effect they will yield once activated."

That was when the fifth member of the group spoke up: "Och aye, fer sure, I keep tellin' yeh manlings these 'ere are the finest runes ye'll find anywhere outside o' the Karaks!" Henrik Fjordsson was one of the leading Dwarven delegates to have joined the colony, and like all Dwarves, it seems, was rather vocal in his opinions.

Aslan took a moment to massage his right temple. _Oh god, how did we end up here, babysitting this bunch of circus freaks and mad scientists?_

Just then, the radio crackled to life: "Doctor Garrett et al," addressed the voice of VICI, "I am en route to the location of Alpha Team. Hostiles will be within the recommended range momentarily, so I recommend that now is perhaps as good as any to initiate the test."

"Got it, thanks VICI," said Dr. Garrett.

"Alright, this is it everyone! To your stations!" spoke up Doctor Savage. He turned to face the sixth person in their group. "My fair lady, if you would do us the honors."

"You flatter me, Lord Savage," replied Lady Sienna Fuegonasus. Ah yes, Lady Sienna. She was one of the first group of mages who come to the colony; apparently, if her name wasn't a big enough giveaway, her specialty evidently had something to do with fire. Hell, she even dressed the part, what with her red robes and the flaming staff she always carried around with her that seemed to never require any fuel of any kind and so had been an endless source of curiosity of everyone at the colony who had questioned her incessantly about "thermodynamics" and so on. Even where he was standing, Aslan could swear he could feel the heat emanating from her and wasn't sure if it was her staff or herself who was giving it off. A real hot witch indeed.

Everyone held their breath. Lady Sienna strode up to the end of the device facing her, and prepared herself. Summoning whatever 'Winds of Magic' or whatever the natives called it, the flames burning on her staff began to burn more fiercely. And then, her hair too burst into flame, though she was completely unfazed by this, nor was anyone else since apparently this was normal for her. And then, she held up her left hand, and unleashed a brilliant stream of sparks and flame at the machine, right at the rear opening facing her.

Almost at once, something was going on inside the device that caused a brilliant red beam to exit the front end, all the power and heat of the witch's spell concentrated into a single, thin bolt of light. The beam cut straight through the air in an instant, and struck a target over a mile away, and it burst into flames.

"Great success!" cheered Dr. Savage and Hyneman in unison as they high-fived each other in self-congratulation. Lady Sienna blushed. Fjordsson cheered raucously. Lord Gelt, as always, looked impassive and expressionless. Though, beneath that mask, Aslan supposed, something must have been going on in his mind, perhaps some excitement as to the possibilities of where they could take this technology...

"Excellent," remarked Dr. Garrett, "I hope that a successful field test will bring us one step closer to getting the approval we need for our 'Thaumic High Energy Laser' project. Alright, prepare for the next shot!"

* * *

 **The High Zar (II)**

He knew not what had happened to him. One moment, he had tried to pluck that measly little bolt out of his earthly form's gullet, and then the next he could remember, he could see his own body crumpled upon the snow, his chest torn wide open, spilling its contents everywhere, his head nowhere to be seen, only the three horns that had adorned his helm so long that they had since fused to his skull could now be glimpsed laying around in three different places.

This is what the disembodied essence of High Zar Surtha Lenk now beheld as it drifted somewhere in limbo, between the material realm and the greater realm beyond, the true universe, the abode of the True Gods, and of his Own and True Master above all. He should have been killed, the mortal vessel that carried his soul destroyed by whatever sorceries had accompanied that otherwise pathetic manling weapon. But no. It took incredible focus and determination and willpower, and to call upon whatever other gifts and talents the Lord hath blessed upon him, but he clung bitterly onto this earthly realm. The Heavens were calling out to him, but he resisted, knowing full well that his purposes on this plane of existence were far from fully satisfied.

Instead, he quickly turned to look for another earthly vessel to carry his soul, and he found it not too far away, in the form of Sigweird The Muliebrous, who at that moment was but a hundred paces away, leading the charge forwards against the pathetic little line of manling warriors off in the distance. The strong, talented youth was a creature of Norscan stock rather than Kurgan, but it made no difference to the High Zar; he was a servant to the Lord too and time was of the essence, and thus this body would have to do. Lenk found he had no compunctions at all as, like a wolf closing in on its prey, his soul followed the aura of Sigweird, and then violently forced himself upon the unsuspecting youth whilst his attention was focused elsewhere.

Sigweird was caught completely offguard, and, as expected, fought back viciously, his soul of course unwilling to surrender its vessel to the higher cause. They had not exactly seen eye to eye beforehand when each had their own body, and now that was not expected to change now that one of them commanded the possession of the other's. Lenk, however, was by far the stronger of the two, and before long, he began to overpower the feisty youth, tearing apart his soul piece by piece.

In desperation, Sigweird sank to his knees and shrieked and clawed at his himself, inch-long nails screeching and breaking against the cold iron plate that covered his chest. With his other hand, he grabbed his helm and tore it from his skull as if in the hopes that this would pull away the vicious aura that now assailed him. So long had he worn it that pulling it off tore a large chunk of skin and flesh and bone off the top of his head, but otherwise one could still see clearly and perfectly the ghastly pale skin that had not seen the light of day in years, and the beautiful long silver-gold hair that most certainly would have made him beloved in the court of the Prince Of Pleasure had he not chosen to follow the True Lord instead.

It was all in vain. The body convulsed violently a few times more, but it was no longer as Sigweird but as Surtha Lenk. Whatever little else remained of the Norscan youth's soul was left to dissipate into nothingness or else be consumed by the others around him.

Lenk rose to his feet and took a moment to admire the new body that he had just appropriated for himself. It was not ideal, but beggars could not be choosers. It would suffice for now, at least until he could recover and recoup his strength and perhaps then he could find a more adequate replacement or else shape this form into another he would be more at home in and...

 _ **FOOOM!**_

A bright red lance of light struck him, and at once roaring flames shot out from every inch of his new body. Fire, yes, but this was not any old fire, but that which carried the Wind Of Aqshy behind it.

"Oh, Bugger!" he cursed quietly as his hard-earned new body began to smolder and burn and turn to naught more but cinders and ashes. Once more the void reached out to swallow his soul, and this time, Lenk was far too weakened to fight it.

* * *

 **Elsewhere on the Battlefield...**

The Wild-Cat Light Utility Vehicle, one of two they had brought from the colony, coasted along the top of the hill, overlooking the river valley below. Demya had the driver's seat, but it was actually VICI who was driving... or, rather, he was remote-controlling the vehicle while his body was standing in the back, manning the turret there. He was actually being quite precise and reserved in his shooting, at least in stark contrast to someone else who was also riding the Cat at that moment...

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" bawled Pavel Bukakhin, who was half-standing, half-seated in the front seat beside her, and half-hanging out of the open windows. "I AM HEAVY WEAPON GUY! AND THIS MY WEAPON! AHAHAHAHAHA!"

 _ **BBBBRRRRRAAAAAPPPPP, BBBRRRRAAAAAAPPPP**_ , roared the GShG-8 as its four barrels whirred away, spent cartridges flying everywhere and quickly forming a small pool of brass upon the floor of the vehicle. Normally, he would have expended all of the ammo in his backpack in under half a minute, but VICI had brought more with him when he drove over to their position, thus further enabling Pavel's habits. For a second, Demya was sure that between Pavel and VICI and Gidra too all firing away out of the same side, there must have been enough recoil between the three of them to flip the Wild Cat over.

In the backseat, the Grand Inquisitor looked a little flustered and in discomfort, both from being unused to this kind of vehicle travel, and from all the noise and chaos all around him. He looked forward to Demya: "Is this behavior... _common_ among the Sky-People?"

Demya shrugged. "Well, now that you mention it, I think most folks who join the Legion are neither the most stable nor well-adjusted."

"I see..." replied the old man, never once taking his eyes off of Pavel, "well, as long as this... _instability_ of his is directed towards the Great Enemy." He clearly disdained of this behavior (not helped at all by her and her fellow Legionaries' widespread deployment of colorful language), but also seemed to at least know that now was not the time nor place to make issue of it; that could wait. And besides, from what she had seen so far, the people of Kislev or The Empire were not exactly the most balanced either.

But on the plus side, Demya had to admit it, Comrade Grandpa here had proven to be a lot less of a pain in the ass than she had been expecting. For starters, when they first came out here, they expected everyone to have a right stick up their _zadnitsa_ or something over two women fighting alongside the men, but thankfully that turned out not to be the case. Granted, seeing as their queen was a pretty tough bitch herself who must have rubbed that firmly into their minds.

That was when Ike broke up whatever semblance of a conversation they were having with an important announcement: "attention: the allied indigenous cavalry forces are inbound. We have done our work here today, Lt. Rasolski is ordering that we withdraw and let our allies take it from here."

" _Ponyal._ Thanks Ike," she replied, "alright, Comrades! We've got friendlies inbound! Stand down!"

The firing ceased, and sure enough, a trumpet was heard sounding in the distance, from across the river. Demya turned and saw the cavalry already there, fording the shallows there. Leading the way were the horse archers recruited from the Ungol tribes of Eastern Steppe of the Kingdom; they crossed the river quickly and easily, their small but tough and hardy mounts shrugging off the frigid water and charging ahead to harass the flanks of the Chaos horde.

Just behind them, however, she glimpsed the larger and more noticeable outlines of Lord Toschenko's small contingent of the elite Winged Hussars of the Kingdom - noble cavalrymen who wore expensive and ostentatious armor, and even more ostentatious wings bolted to the back of the armor. She'd once read about similar units being used by the Poland-Lithuania Commonwealth back on Earth, and wondered what Rosso and Gidra, being Polish-Lithuanians themselves, must have made of this. She took a good look at the painted wood-and-canvas awnings that adorned each knight's backside, fluttering wildly in the wind, and honestly had to wonder what practical purpose those wings served. Their function was probably no more than purely aesthetic and traditional, but then again, when fighting against such terrifying foes as Chaos, every bit of effort towards raising moral must have counted for far more than it did back on Earth. And who knows, with the sheer amount of magic this planet oozed, maybe some of them could actually fly.

Another horn was heard, this time from the opposite direction. Demya turned around and looked back in time to see the other cavalry wing approaching from the opposite flank, out of the forests were they had been hidden, hundreds of large shapes lumbering out from between the trees, their riders all with their sabres raised high and screaming like savages. Usually, moving cavalry through wooded terrain was a terrible idea, but at least this force seemed somewhat more justified in doing so, as the raucous rabble of roars and growls met her ears: those weren't horses these mad cossacks were riding, but _bears_. Motherfucking bears.


	48. Battle Report 6

**From** : [REDACTED]  
 **To** : [REDACTED]  
 **Re** : Armed Engagement Against Hostile CHAOS Forces on EE-L0  
 **FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

 **AFTER-ACTION REPORT:**

 **The Battle Of The North Lynsk**

 **§1. DATE** : Day 223  
 **§2. LOCATION** : near the town of Svedora, along the North Lynsk River, Vostroya Oblast, Kingdom Of Kislev, Planet EE-L0.  
 **§3. PARTICIPANTS** :

+The Forces Of "Chaos" (see **Footnote[1]** ).

+The Kingdom Of Kislev

+The Company™

 **§4. OUTCOME** : Allied victory

 **§5. ORDER OF BATTLE** :

 **5.1. Forces Of "Chaos"** : approx. 2,500

+2,000 Infantry

+500 Cavalry

+30 Trolls

+2 "Shagoths" (see **Footnote[3]** )

 ** _Leaders:_**

+High Zar Surtha Lenk

 **5.2. Kingdom Of Kislev** : 3,500

+2,300 infantry (incl. 400 gun infantry)

+800 Horse-mounted Cavalry

+400 Bear-mounted Cavalry

 ** _Leaders:_**

+Lord-Commander Kubrik Chenkov

+Grand Inquisitor Fyodor Karamazov

+Lord Valmar Toschenko

 **5.3. The Company™** : 14

+6 "Geological Surveyors" + 1 Tactical A.I.

+3 Company™ scientists

+3 native consultants

+1 Nexus-8 unit ( _Victory_ -class A.I.)

+2 Wild-Cat Light Utility Vehicles

+1 Experimental Thaumic Energy Focusing Device (X-TEF)

 _ **Leaders:**_

+Lt. Pyotr Rasolski ("Geological Surveyors")

+Dr. Richard Garrett (science team)

 **§6. PRELUDE:**

We began our efforts at a diplomatic outreach to the Kingdom Of Kislev almost as soon as we learned of their existence, especially given the geographically close proximity of the Kingdom to our colony, as they border directly on the Grand Principality Of Ostland. Our diplomatic efforts were motivated primarily by two reasons: (1) trade/economic ties, as the Kingdom, while hovering at a developmental stage somewhat around the late 1600's / early 1700's Tsardom Of Russia, does possess sizable mineral reserves of bauxite, coltan, ilmenite, yttrium, platinum-group metals, and eridanium; and (2) defense purposes: being located due northeast of The Empire, Kislev is the furthest and most remote of the "civilized" Exohuman nations of Planet EE-L0, and lies between The Empire and the dangerously thaumically-active North Polar region of the planet. Thus, it is this world's first line of defense against the forces that coalesce around the planet's polar dimensional rift.

As a result of its close proximity to this dangerous and unstable area, the Kingdom of Kislev is under near-constant siege by the "Forces Of Chaos". Most of the time, Chaos forces are rather, well, _chaotic_ , and tend to fall into disorder quickly, as well as finding it more and more difficult to properly manifest in our world the further they are from the portal (although this is not always the case, and some Chaos-affiliated entities are able to maintain their connection to the Immaterium just about anywhere on the planet). However, the sheer power and aggression of individual Chaos-affiliated individuals means that the Kingdom Of Kislev is in constant danger of being overrun with these hostiles, and should Kislev be allowed to fall, The Empire (and our colony) would be next.

Thus, Directors Lombardi and Saito have, since early on, been working with Director Teller and with our local allies in The Empire Of Man to formulate a long-term strategy to enlist Kislev as an ally and to shore up their defenses. UN Capt. Müller and Amb. Alpers approved these proposals provided that they are in-line with UNASEC rules. Given that the Kislevites' rather striking cultural and linguistic similarities to Russian, we had already considered sending the Arcturus Legion as our emissaries even before Insp. Lynn had, ahem, politely requested their removal from Planet EE-L5.

Our offers to the Kingdom consist of a complete and comprehensive developmental package similar to that which we are working on with The Empire Of Man, that being one with particular focus on the areas of (1) military defense, (2) transportation and infrastructure improvements, (3) mineral extraction and resources development, and (4) agriculture and forestry development. Around the time that our emissaries arrived in Kislev, however, a Chaos warband under the command of a Kurgan warlord known as "High Zar Surtha Lenk" initiated a major incursion into the Kingdom.

Tzarina Katarin, ruler of Kislev, was informed of this invasion just prior to meeting with the Arcturus representatives, and evidently decided that the best way to determine the validity of our offers was to first pit our soldiers in combat against the Chaos horde and gauge how we fared. To entirely fair, we can understand some of her initial suspicions towards us, given that the Kingdom in general is quite isolated and unused to foreigners, and even to someone as educated and enlightened as the Tzarina, much of our technology and tales of "coming from beyond the stars" would be sure to paint us as some kind of sorcerers, and as established, this is a world where sorcery of any kind is justifiably viewed with suspicion and distrust.

Thanks to the rapid transport option afforded by the use of our Falcon shuttle, the Arcturus mercenaries and a retinue of retainers sent by the Queen were able to arrive at the frontier well ahead of schedule and begin better preparing the people of the Vostroya region to repel the invasion.

Just a few days prior to the battle, Dr. Garrett, Dr. Savage, and Dr. Hyneman were excited to announce a major breakthrough in the successful lab testing of an experiment thaumic-energy focusing device, and expressed a desire to have the opportunity to field test it.

 **§7. COURSE OF BATTLE:**

We estimate that Surtha Lenk may have entered Kislev territory with anywhere between three- and five-thousand troops at his command, although these forces were dispersed along a wide front. This was likely done in order to increase the amount of raiding, although we also believe that the natural animosity between the Norse and Kurgan members of this host as well as the lack of any clear organizational structure - while no-one doubted Surtha Lenk's place at the top, the chain of command below him was far less clear, with individual Chaos Warriors, more-often-than-not, simply eschewing such silly ideas as "command hierarchy" and pursuing their own objectives on the field. Nonetheless, as the host approached the headwaters of the Lynsk River, those forces closest to the center began to coalesce into a single rabble, aimed at the town of Svedora, the first large settlement they would have encountered.

The Royal Kislevite Army is actually a lot better organized than we had initially given them credit for, more along the lines of the Tsarist Russian Army in the mid-to-late 1600's - so prior to the reforms of Peter The Great, but certainly far more organized than the medieval feudal armies found elsewhere, like in the Kingdom Of Bretonnia or on Planet EE-L4. The Kingdom does maintain several regular regiments, called the "Streltsy", and have used black powder firearms for at least a century prior to our arrival. However, the Kislevite army is still considerably less advanced than The Empire Of Man, and still heavily reliant on masses of "Kossar" peasant levies to augment their regulars. For this reason, Lord-Commander Chenkov, even with the assistance, reconnaissance, and communications provided by our forces, was unable to organize both the regulars and the fresh levies into battle-ready formation in the narrow window of time between when we determined that Svedora was indeed Lenk's intended target, and when these invading forces actually arrived. We suspect that Lord Chenkov's rather over-zealous and liberal application of his own brand of "discipline" (encouraged no doubt by our gift to him that was meant to earn his trust) may have also have been a factor in this.

Fortunately for Chenkov, what could have ended in disaster was closely averted thanks to the intervention of our own forces. Earlier, Amb. Alpers had informed us that the UNCDF would not be providing combat air support unless as an absolute last-resort to preserve civilian lives. The official reason he gave was that this is UNASEC policy on limiting Terran interference in indigenous affairs. Personally, however, I believe that he and the others in the UN may still be slightly annoyed by our actions in going behind their back and bringing a band of private military contractors affiliated with the notoriously-reputed Arcturus Legion on this mission and masquerading them as "geological surveyors". Regardless, the Arcturus Legionaries did not seem too concerned being informed of the shortage of air support, and set about preparing their deployment as follows:

 **+Alpha Team** : Capt. Raskolnikova, Pvt. Bukhakin, and Pvt. Valiute, assigned as a forward force to try to hold up the horde and also gauge its strength while the rest of the army followed behind.

 **+Gamma Team** : Pvt. Ganzorig and Pvt. Vuong were assigned to guard the field team of scientists and "native consultants" who had been specially assembled to test out the eXperimental Thaumic Energy Focuser (X-TEF) ( **Footnote[2]** ). VICI also accompanied this group and assisted in the set-up of the X-TEF.

 **+Red Leader** : Lt. Rasolski was deployed, by himself, and assigned to accompany General Chenkov in order to advise him, as well as provide any needed heavy support that the main Kislevite battle line.

After considerable time and effort, the Kislevite army was finally able to form itself into a standard deployment of two lines of infantry, the main line and the reserve. Meanwhile, the cavalry was grouped into two wings: the "conventional" cavalry (IE: those mounted on horses) were sent along the western flank, across the river and keeping just behind the foothills and out-of-sight. The cavalry on the eastern flank consisted of the bear riders, and were sent through the forested area located on the hills due east of the river valley. Normally, to send cavalry through a wooded area is an ill-advised move, thought it appears that the ursine units fare far better in these kinds of terrain than regular equine units.

From what we have discerned, the Chaos army consisted of the following: (1) approx. 1,000 light infantry - mainly of Kurgan ethnicity but with some ethnic Norscans as well, at least according to our native allies. We have decided to designate these types of units as "Marauders". (2) approx. 1,000 or so of the heavier infantry, mainly Norscans clad in heavy plate armor and often heavily mutated. (3) approx. 500 cavalry units, mounted mainly on horses that were, much like their riders, heavily mutated. (4) 30 of the local variant of the Troll species, _Troll chaotica_. (5) 2 large indigenous lifeforms, known as "Shagoths" or "Dragon-Ogres" among the natives (awaiting an official designation by our scientists) ( **Footnote[3]** ).

On one hand, the entire Chaos host was, true to their name, disorganized and disorderly and rife with internal tensions. On the other hand, however disorganized they may have been as an overall army, there is little doubt that individual Chaos Warriors are _extremely_ dangerous and capable combatants, as will be shown by our analysis of the melee combat that occurred once the Chaos host was able to close the distance with the Kislevite army's first line. Although Kislev in fact had a numerical advantage over the invaders, most of these numbers had been achieved by bulking out the ranks with peasant levies, and the unfortunate fact is that even a lower-tier Chaos infantry unit, like one of the (relatively) un-mutated "Marauders", still poses a major threat to most Kislevite infantry units. Without our assistance, we have no doubt that the the Royal army would have been destroyed.

Alpha Team was the first to engage the enemy. Pvt. Valiute was assigned to snipe any identifiable leaders of the horde and monstrous creatures, using special armor-penetrating high explosive rounds. Capt. Raskolnikova served as her spotter as well as overall squad leader of Alpha Team. Pvt. Bukakhin was assigned as heavy support and engaged the enemy once they were within range. Alpha Team was able to buy precious time for the rest of the army to prepare itself, but before long, dwindling ammo coupled with superior numbers and an express order to only engage from afar and not to engage the enemy in close-quarters combat led to a tactical withdrawal. VICI, who had until now been assisting Gamma Team with final field preparations on the X-TEF, quickly took one of the two available Wild-Cat vehicles and drove it out to Alpha Team's located to execute a pickup.

The rest of Gamma Team completed setting up the X-TEF at a location across the Lynsk River, about a mile from the frontline action. For the final test, Lord Patriarch Balthasar Gelt himself was present, partly to provide last minute checks to ensure that the set-up of the electro-runes were consistent with the specifications that he had helped develop, and also because we felt safer having one more accomplished veteran thaumaturgist on our side present just in case push came to shove. In total, we managed to fire off 20 shots (incendiary shots, courtesy of Lady Sienna Fuegonasus of the Bright Order, see **Footnote[4]** ) before a thaumic regulator burned out and the X-TEF had to be shut down out of safety concerns.

Although the Chaos host took grievous casualties from the combined ranged-bombardment from three different places, they nonetheless were able to charge their warriors into melee combat with the Kislevite main line. The melee went as well for our side as one would expect a brawl between a normal human (usually a village crofter equipped with a spear) and an 8ft-tall blood knight, usually of a Proud Warrior Race background, heavily mutated by unhealthy doses of exposure to raw thaumic energy over the course of his life, clad head-to-toe in plate armor bearing all manner of spiky ornamentation and infused with even more thaumic energy, and perhaps supported closely by a 20ft hulking creature that appears to be some kind of hybrid between an ogre and a dragon. In other words, not very well.

However, once the Chaos warriors had expended the shock impact of their charge against the Kislevite frontline and been locked into place, the cavalry stationed on both flanks was then sent in to finish the work by catching the bulk of the Chaos host between two pincer movements. It _bears_ worth noting that the ursine cavalry seems to be especially effective, given that their mounts are, you know, half-ton bruins that can reach up to 3m in height when rearing back on their hindlegs, and have enormous claws up to 10cm in length, and can sprint at well over 40km/h.

 **§8. CASAULTIES :**

 **§8.1. Forces Of Chaos :** entire force eliminated

*NOTE: We have been unable to identify the whereabout of Surtha Lenk himself. However, Inquisitor Karamazov has warned us that some of the more thaumically-potent "Champions of Chaos" are able to perform something akin to "body-snatching" if their physical body is destroyed, so we cannot rule out the possibility that he may still be alive and have gotten away.

 **§8.2. Allied Forces :**

+Approx. 500 KIA or MIA

+800 WIA

+37%

 **§9. AFTERMATH:**

We are still as yet analyzing the results of this battle and what we have observed as to the capabilities of the "Chaos" Faction. While this battle resulted in a victory for our side, it must be remembered that many Chaos-aligned forces are still active in Kislev territory, and that many, many more remain just beyond in the dangerous north polar region of the planet. We also find the 37% casualty rate to be concerning if this are what the Kislevites expect even from victories (although Lord Chenkov did not seem overly concerned, stating that these rates were normal and to be expected, that he considers the battle to have been a, quote, "Great success!", and that, quote, "losses are acceptable; failure is not").

On a more positive note, we are pleased to report that our standing among the Kislevites has improved markedly because of the cooperation we showed, and we hope to continue further dealings with the Kingdom. We are prioritizing cooperation on providing for the common defense, primarily on "modernizing" Kislev's army to some extent. Again, due to their similarities to Tsarist Russia, Dr. S. Duff from the Anthropology Dept. has recommended using the reign of Peter The Great as a model for Kislev to follow for now, at least until the level of industry, economy, and government capacity available improves enough to begin adopting more modern practices.

We are also pleased to report that the field test of the X-TEF performed within expected parameters. While the actual number of casualties inflicted by the device was negligible (only 20 hits out of 2,500 possible targets on the field), at least the fundamental concept and premises behind the X-TEF has been proven. This successful field test combined with the numerous lab tests we had conducted beforehand has convinced Dr. Garrett and many others here that our work on electro-runes and thaumic wave diffraction has advanced far enough that we are now ready to begin work on their proposed THEL-project. They are now seeking the requisite approval and appropriate funding.

 _ **This report is considered HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL, HIGHEST-LEVEL. Under no circumstances are any details reported here, particularly those related to our X-TEF project, to be disclosed to ANYONE else, except those with a Rank 7 Security Clearance or higher.**_

 **FOOTNOTES :**

 **[1]** Just in case you haven't been paying attention to the previous reports we have been publishing on the phenomenon of "Chaos" over these last few months, we recommend that now is a good time to start paying closer attention.

"Chaos" is the collective term the indigenous peoples of Planet EE-L0 use to describe certain and highly thaumically-potent Advanced Super Beings (Gods, for all intents and purposes), their followers and worshippers, and the influence that these beings can exert in the physical world. All "Chaos", along with all thaumic energy, appears to originate from a parallel dimension/universe. The natives of EE-L0 call it "the Immaterium" but we have designated it "the Anteverse" (a contraction of "Anti-Universe") or "the Dark Universe" (due to its relation to Dark Energy). We now know that "magic" and its associated occurrences of supernatural phenomena are directly related to "the Anteverse", particularly in areas where rifts in the spacetime continuum connect our physical universe with the Dark Universe. Two such spacetime anomalies exist at the North and South Poles of Planet EE-L0, and are responsible for the presence of "Chaos" on that world. Curiously, and fortunately, we have observed that "Chaos" is not active on any of the other planets in the system despite these other world's utilization of thaumic energy.

The natives have indicated to us that there are currently four known major "Chaos Gods" (that is, one of the aforementioned "highly thaumically-potent ASBs"), although others may exist, including perhaps those associated with the other inhabited worlds, as well as lesser Anteverse entities worshipped on Planet EE-L0. These four "Chaos Gods" are supposedly in constant competition with one another, with groups of their followers often attacking each other - one could almost say that Chaos is very, well, _chaotic_. This combined with their followers' heavy reliance on thaumic energy simply to exist as they do in our universe may be the primary reason that Chaos has not yet overrun Planet EE-L0, in spite of their numerous other advantages over the L0 natives' existing military forces.

In addition to distinguishing between the followers of the four principal "Chaos Gods", the natives also distinguish between three types of Chaos-affiliated beings, and we have largely followed their classification system. These three types of entities are:

(1) " **Beastmen** " or _Homo bestialis_. These are animals or humans who have been extensively thaumically-mutated and degraded down to a feral state by the influence of Chaos. "Beastmen" may take any number of varied and aberrant forms, often combining human with several types of animal.

(2) " **Warriors of Chaos** " - that is, humans who worship Chaos, and many of whom have received extensive thaumic mutations, but still retain some sense of organization and culture, unlike the aforementioned Beastmen. Many humans from across the planet follow Chaos, but the actual "Warriors Of Chaos" by-and-large refer to three specific groups of humans, these being the Norse people of the Norsca region of the planet, and the Hung and Kurgan tribes of the Eastern Steppes region.

(3) " **Daemons** " - from what we have gathered, these appear to be energy beings spawned from pure thaumic energy and that while they may take many different forms and with many different capabilities, they more often than not seek to take the appearance of figures that would not look too far out-of-place in some of our own history's works of art and lierature, such as in Medieval Italian poet Dante Alighieri's _Inferno_ , or the paintings of Hieronymus Bosch.

 **[2]** Exact details on the eXperimental Thaumic Energy Focusing Device (X-TEF) are CLASSIFIED. Period.

 **[3]** As our biologists are as yet uncertain whether the "Shaggoth"/Dragon Ogre is more closely related to the Ogre ( _Homo ogrynus_ ) or to the dragon (genus _Draco_ ). This is yet another thaumically-induced mutation caused by "Chaos" that defies any form of classification.

 **[4]** Again, just in case you haven't been paying attention to any of the reports our researchers at C.E.R.T. have been filing over the last few months, the "Bright Order" is the name of an association of practical thaumaturgists based in Altdorf who specialize in the field of pyromancy, or "The Wind Of Aqshy" as they call it.


	49. Subject Stark Again

**_Somewhere else entirely..._**

The mortals celebrated yet another victory. _Good_ , thought the entity. A little appeasement here, a little satisfaction there - all in good time would these serve towards the entity's higher ends. But it was ageless and eternal, and so it could afford to wait patiently and quietly whilst the mortal went about their little plans. What was the loss of one rather overzealous champion compared to the wisdom it had gleaned from this day's events? For all of his zeal and dedication, this champion had begun to run his course in usefulness, his soul was now far more useful where it was now, here, being naught more than fodder for the rest of his servants to devour alive. The loss of this being's earthly form and those of several thousand others - a mere drop in the bucket of eternity - was an acceptable toll to pay for the knowledge that these new mortals from beyond the stars now had in their possession a device quite unlike any other. One that the entity would most certainly take an interest in to see where they would go with it - both in a figurative and literal sense as well.

The entity chuckled to itself, rubbing hands it should not have had together, eagerly, deriving sheer delight from pondering all the possibilities that lay ahead, all the fates it was playing with. It retrieved from deep within the infinite depths of the empyrean robes it wore an object: a tablet of unknown material, upon which it had somehow managed to inscribe upon it the name of every mortal being it had ever taken an active interest in the fate of. Naturally, this had always been a lengthy list, but it had grown three-fold over the course of these last few months alone. Not only had the peoples from beyond the stars been adding themselves to it, but so too had they enabled the entity to have minor and fleeting glimpses into the other three orbs that floating in the void, just tantalizingly out of the entity's grasp... until now.

 _Yes_ , thought the being as it consulted its list, _yes, it is time to check-in and see how another mortal I have been admittedly neglecting for a while is faring at this moment_...

* * *

 **Brandon (III)**

Blood and fire raged across the snow, fueled and fanned by sources unseen, while the sky above glowed a brilliant shade of orange colors, purple stripes, and green polkadots. The glare was far too strong for his two little eyes, and he tried to close them, but found that he could not. So instead, he raised his arms to cover them, and was granted some respite as his vision plunged into darkness.

But his relief was short-lived, as before long, streaks of light and color began to dance across the darkness, illuminating what he now could see was a large but enclosed space, like being inside a great hall but one unlike any he had ever seen before. Masses of bodies were crammed into this space, slithering, crawling, groping at one another, twisting and jerking back and forth violently, engaged in some bizarre ritualistic dance as the colors continued to paint the air above them. The sounds they made were deafening, a vigorous and pounding music that pained his ears and made his heart pulse wildly.

Two beings emerged from the throng, one man and one woman, naked, hand-in-hand. They alone stood pure and untainted against the mass of deformity and aberration that surrounded them. They tried to separate themselves from the rest of the unclean masses, but as Bran turned around, he could see that the only way to go was towards the great pyramid that had appeared ahead of them, a vivid eye gracing the top of it and looking down upon them, and then the pyramid began to open itself up as if welcoming them inside, revealing only darkness within.

His vision changed yet again. Now he stood upon a familiar sight, The Wall... or at first it seemed familiar, for now he could behold with his eyes that it was not the wall he knew. The lands below were not the North, and the wall itself was not a straight line but arranged in a circle, and in the center of the great circle festered something green and foul that Bran could perceive only its shape from his vantage point and none of its details, not that he wished to.

Once more, he saw the ocean rise up to wash across the land, saw the spires of glass and silver and the dark tunnels of iron beneath them, and the outline of a city along the coast and beyond, the storm approaching it from the sea. He also saw two angels fall from blinding heights and land in different places. These, however, he knew had already come to pass though how he knew exactly, he could not say for sure.

Next, he saw a pair of glowing corpses were perched arm-in-arm upon a chair of black iron, thin wiry silver strands running out of their empty eye sockets and gaping mouths and ears and other bodily orifices. And now Bran floated in an ocean, not of water but of a fluid he knew not what it could be. Around him swam beings the size of men but with their faces and limbs twisted and contorted into grotesque shapes, covered not in skin or cloth but a hardened carapace of some kind. They were milling about, largely ignoring him, at work on things he could not quite perceive. Above them shone a red sun, eclipsed by a black moon that was smaller than it and gave the appearance of a gigantic eye staring right into him.

Bran could take it no more. He opened his eyes and cried out in terror, and once more found himself in his room, curled up on his bed. Summer was beside him, but oddly enough didn't seem too agitated at all by his master's plight and remained sleeping. He was breathing heavily, and his head hurt. But he was safe here in his room, and having Summer beside him gave him reassurance.

He reached for the glass of cold water he kept on his bedside table... and knocked it over, spilling it everywhere. He cursed to himself, though the words came out incoherently and unlike any words a sane man would have spoken. He tried to stand up, but found he couldn't.

He tried to reach for the glass to pick it up, and that was when he noticed, as his vision began to clear and adjust to the dark room around him, that his arm was long and covered in shaggy fur, his fingers gone entirely and in their place four claws putting out from his paw. He turned his head back around and that was when he realized that that wasn't Summer there curled up next to him. It was his own body.

* * *

 **Center for Biological & Medical Research  
Colony of Crimson EquinoX  
Grand Principality of Ostland, The Empire Of Man,  
Main Continent, Planet EE-L0**

"At approximately 0415hr this morning, the sensors registered that Subject Stark momentarily went clinically brain-dead for 42 seconds," spoke Dr. Petra Muysenbergh, reading through the notes displayed on her holotablet. "However, thaumic activity remained high, at an average rate of output of 12.7 Gellers (or 12.7 Thaums per second). The sudden loss of neural activity combined with the spike in thaumic activity set off an emergency protocol that then triggered 'the kick', and Subject Stark returned to full consciousness immediately. I have yet to speak to him about this incident. However, given my study of the footage, particularly of the behavior of the canine designated 'Summer' during the period of Subject Stark's loss of brain activity, I believe that this morning, Subject Stark, momentarily, was able to fully project his consciousness into another living being."

"I believe these are called 'Wargs' here on L4, though that term is used for different things on the other ones," added in Dr. Sean Duff, via tele-conferencing; right now, he was stationed over at Autumn's Frontier, in order to lead the research unit based at Outpost B.

Petra continued, and this time, the concern in her voice was evident: "this is outside the scope of the lessons that he has been taking with Subjects Valten and Adamsen. We also registered high neurological and thaumic activity in the minutes just prior to this episode during a period of abnormal sleep patterns, and consistent with earlier episodes wherein Subject Stark was forced into unconsciousness as a safety precaution. For these reasons, I think we should consider taking him off acid."

Dr. Cristina Di Stefano, however, shook her head. "No. Not until we can establish a clear causal relationship between this episode and the doses of Lysergic Acid Diethylamide we've been administering. As it stands, we haven't yet established _correlation_ , and even then, that does not necessarily equal _causation_. It could be that these are a natural side-effect as he continues unlocking his own thaumic-potential."

Petra put down her holotablet and addressed her superior more directly: "he's also been hitting the limit more often. The thaumic regulator has worked every time, but the fact remains that we've needed to use it more often, even after we re-calibrated the limits to account for his new skills."

"I'm with Petra on this," chimed in Sean, who by now was probably the closest thing they had to an expert in the indigenous lore over on L4, and particularly of Subject Stark's heritage. He continued: "whether all of them really do carry this 'mutant gene' or not, the Starks are still one of the most important political factions on L4. Hell, they're probably _the_ most important now after Ned and Robb's victory over the Lannisters. I don't think they'll be too pleased if we, I dunno, end up causing their little brother's head to explode. Or worse, given that this is Planet L-Zero we're talking about."

"Neither Subject Valten nor Subject Adamsen have reported nearly as many episodes," protested Cristina, "nor as violent. We specifically tailored Subject Stark's doses taking his age and smaller physical stature into account."

"Cristi, look," said Petra, "we're not in a race with the folks over in Physics. Okay? There's enough magic-folk here on L-Zero, and there'll be way more too once they open up the colony on L3 too. Maybe it's time we consider letting Bran go."

"Subject Stark isn't our prisoner," replied Cristina, defensively, "he's only with us because he _chose_ to come here. He's free to leave whenever he wants to."

"Yes, but can we trust him to know what's best for him?" chimed in Sean. "He's only a boy. This is a very big and scary universe he's getting himself into, but it's also one that beckons to him, lets curiosity get the better of him. And the better of _you_ too, it seems."

An awkward silence descended over everyone gathered in the lab. Cristina glared at the face of Dr. Duff on the holo-screen for a moment. She looked to Petra. Both of them had looks of genuine concern on their faces. They were undermining everything that she was trying to achieve with this project, but as much as she hated to admit it, they had a point. They may have not seen eye-to-eye with her, but she never doubted their honesty, and whatever they were saying was out of worry rather than spite or jealousy.

Cristina sighed, and spoke: "I'll... I'll have a word about this with Director Lombardi."


	50. The Holiday I

**Along the road between Willowbottom and Bywater  
Green Hill County, "The Shire"  
Western Region of "Eriador",  
Continent of "Endor", Planet EE-L5**

It was mid-morning now, and the sun was shining brightly as the five made their way along the dirt road ahead of them. The landscape around them was simply breathtaking – from scenic mountain peaks down to the verdant fields of green, the quaint rolling hills and villages dotting them. It reminded Miranda almost of... well, what else but a New Zealand tourism commercial?

At that moment, Miranda Riversong was leading the group, perched upon her Company™-made 21-speed Park Trek-80 Touring Bike - in their infinite wisdom, the management had packed several dozen of this over on the _Horizonte_ , probably with the intent that colony personnel would bike whenever possible to conserve fuel and encourage healthy lifestyles. While folks still used bikes for traveling around within each colony, now that the planets had turned out to be a little more dangerous than initial thought, longer bike tours were out of the question. In order to get approval for today's little tour, she had to use her higher rank in the colony management, as well as bringing Dino's dad on board to see if he didn't mind moving a few Credits around to get it done.

Up ahead was a flat stretch of the road with little obstacles, so she had the time to turn her head around and look back. Dino Smith and his dad, Maxwell, were riding on the next two bikes behind her. Dino was a young fellow just like her, who also held one of the higher managerial posts at Beautiful Horizon. His dad, Max, didn't actually work for The Company™, but was a former exec at R.E.Y. Outdoors & Sporting Goods, Inc. He had recently retired from the board there, but the shares he still held in REY were enough that he could afford to pay some good money to get himself a seat on the _Horizonte_ for the ultimate retirement celebration adventure (that, and the connections he had made through his son certainly didn't hurt). Well, what an adventure it sure must've turned out to be for him, even if he hadn't been allowed to leave the colony as much as he would have liked. Max was still pretty young, only in his 50's, and pretty fit, so at least he didn't end up being "the load" as everyone thought he would be. To be fair, no-one in the group really held that "honor" - apart from Max, they were all in their mid-20's to early 30's, had all been carefully vetted by The Company™ when they had all been chosen for this mission years ago... well, most of them anyway. From what Max had said about the month or so he'd just been spending over on L4, not all of staff at Autumn's Frontier were the most vetted, so to speak.

Right behind Dino and his dad rode Christopher Trembley. Chris, like her and like Dino too, was one of the managers working right under Teller and Cheong. He had been with them when they had first gone to Minas Tirith all those months ago, had grown close with the two of them. At that moment, he had been designated the group's unofficial DJ, his MyPhone kept in the front pouch on his bike, the little loudspeaker proving to actually be pretty loud when turned up to max volume, sending its beats blaring across the green hills around them. Right now, it was playing The Zombies' "Time Of The Season" and other hits from around the time period 1968 to '73.

And bringing up the rear of their motley crew was Abigail Flanagan. Abi actually worked for the Bio-Med division over at Crimson EquinoX, but had come on the last inbound Valk; she needed a break from L-Zero, and more importantly, had come to see her. They kept in touch frequently, but things had been so busy ever since they arrived that neither of them had the time to spare a few days to visit each other until now. L5, being the safer planet, was the first choice for a reunion, but Miranda supposed she would go visit L-Zero one day, just once The Company™ had been there a while and things were a little safer there... which would probably be a long while. Regardless, it was good to have her here, and on a world where it was finally somewhat safe to go out of bounds, provided that they all carried appropriate self-defense gear and always stayed together as a group. Abi looked forward and smiled; Miranda smiled back, and then turned back to facing forward as the road ahead of them continued to wind its way across the countryside.

Come to think of it, it hadn't actually been very difficult to convince Teller that they all needed a break, after what they been through at the colony over the last week. Most of the Credits that Mr. Smith Sr. had been kind enough to spring for them actually went towards securing the fuel rations needed for the Falcon ride here and for the return trip when they would be picked up again after the long weekend.

And my god, what a week it had been. The news from Isengard had hit everyone at the colony like a brick. Still thinking about it made Miranda furious - all those poor Rohanian girls, kidnapped from their homes, forced to endure months of all that... that... ugh, she didn't want to think of it now, let it darken the mood on their holiday, but she knew that once they got back, that would be their next big task. Not all of the victims they had rescued could be returned to Rohan at once. Many were suffering from severe health problems or were on the edge of death when they were found, and Rohan just didn't have the capacity to care for everyone. The Company™ and the UN had graciously reached out to take care of the remainder, but that was a daunting task and though the colony had grown much since they had first made landfall, she wondered if they had the facilities to house everyone, let alone the medical supplies and personnel to spare.

To that end, the Elves who had come to Isengard had been a huge help. They were graceful, elegant, and yeah pretty arrogant know-it-alls as well, but they had done more than their fair share of the work in caring for and healing the victims of Saruman's atrocities. To make sure there was as little conflict as possible between the parties, it had been agreed that Lothlorien and The Company™ would divide up which refugees either side would take custody of, although there would still be close coordination between the two at the operations level - not least of all because The Company™ had taken an active interest in the market value of Elven thaumic potential and this whole affair had been a great opportunity to reach out to these otherwise notoriously isolationist folk. Miranda secretly hoped that she would be chosen to be their ambassador to the Elves; the realm they hailed from must have been every bit as beautiful as the people who inhabited it. And she secretly wished Abi would join her too - from what she had gathered, L-Zero's own brand of the _Aelfus_ species were considerably less hospitable...

Yeah. Suffice to say, they all needed a holiday. Teller needed one too, but it was near impossible to convince him to let things go for a bit. She couldn't fault him.

Before long, they came across their first native encounter. Miranda held up her hand, and came to a stop on the side of the road, and the rest of her fellow touring cyclists followed suit. Up ahead, moving in the opposite way they were heading, was a large wooden wagon, pulled by four head of oxen. It was loaded to well above what looked like a safe maximum limit, with dozens of canvas bags tied tightly and secured to the wagon with liberal applications of rope, and as a result it achieved a top speed probably not much faster than walking at a brisk pace. Yes, it sure had a long journey ahead of it. The driver of this cart was seated at the front of it, grasping tightly in his hands the reins and a driving whip for keeping his beasts of burden in-line. He was yet a few dozen meters away or so, but Miranda could already make out some of the details.

He was a male of diminutive stature, just like the rest of the hominid subspecies that inhabited this region, and looked comically tiny next to the large wagon and oxen he was attempting to control. His clothes were simple, like some yeoman farmer that almost made her think of stereotypes about the Amish (most of which weren't true; most Amish now lived pretty modern lives out on the Colonies, since 3D fabrication tech granted their communities a lot of amenities without sacrificing their belief in self-reliance. Still, though, some stereotypes are hard to kick). His stature made him appear a child from a distance, but as he drew closer, Miranda could make out some of the details of the furrows and poor facial complexion on his face that showed that clearly he was in fact much older.

By now, the driver had noticed the group of tourists who were pulled up on the side of the road just ahead of him, and understandably, his face showed a mix of shock and confusion and perhaps curiosity as well. The wagon trundled to a stop, as if he didn't know how best to approach these strangers in their strange clothes, atop those strange two-wheeled carts, or if it was just preferable to ignore them altogether and move along. They'd been warned of course that the hominid subspecies who inhabited this region were notoriously insular even by the standards of the rest of the world. Miranda turned and quickly commanded Chris to turn off the music, which he did so (it was now blaring away with Norman Greenbaum and the "Spirit In The Sky").

"What's he got loaded up in that wagon?" asked Abi, pulling her bike up alongside Miranda's.

Dino took a good whiff and wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, I can smell it from here. Is that... what I think it is?"

"It sure is, son!" spoke Max, clapping Dino on the shoulder. "Ah, brings back old memories. Back in my day, we used to grow our own stuff, not like you kids and all that artificially-synthesized garbage you smoke today."

"Well, what're we waiting for?" smiled Chris, "they speak Westron, which is English. And they'll accept those Gondorian coins we brought from the colony."

Max, ever the businessman he was even in retirement, had already lain his bike down and was now striding over to where the native's wagon was stopped, smiling and waving. He addressed him as such: "Good day, old chap! Splendid day to be out and about, isn't it?"

The Hobbit continued to stare wide-eyed at him for a moment, before he finally replied: "Yer not from around 'ere, are ya?"

"My name is Max," spoke Dino's dad, cheerfully, "my companions and I are just travelin' around these parts, looking for interesting new places to visit and new things to do. And we were wondering if maybe you could help us out. And you, my good sir, are...?" As he spoke, he casually reached down and started playing with the pouch he kept on his belt.

The Hobbit continued to stare blankly at him, but now Miranda could see that the sound of the coins clinking on Max's belt was starting to overcome any initial compunctions he may have harbored.

"Lotho Sackville Baggins, at yer service," spoke the Hobbit as he put down the reins and stood up from his seat. He was only a mere four feet in height, but thanks to his perch atop the wagon, he was now looking down on Mr. Smith.

"Lotho, it's nice to meet you," continued Max, "so... if I may ask, where's an enterprising lad like you heading out today with all this... stuff?"

"Just to a... very important customer."

Miranda frowned. Maybe she was just naturally suspicious after all she had seen, but she could only think of one "very important person" in this region that would warrant being so secretive about. Maybe he was just innocently referring to some other noble person living in the southeastern part of The Shire. Maybe. But from the looks of it, Max too had caught onto this...

"Well, good luck," said Max, "be careful though. It's not safe. Even with Isengard defeated and Saruman dead, I heard that some of his ruffians are still wandering around these parts, except probably more dangerous now without someone to command them."

Sure enough, Miranda's suspicions were vindicated. The look on Lotho's face said it all. "Sorry, uh, could you repeat that?" he asked.

"Sure," replied Max, matter-of-factly, "didn't you hear the news? Rohan and some Elves along with some people from beyond the stars attacked Isengard and wrecked the place, and killed the White Wizard. They rescued a couple thousand young Rohanians that Saruman had been keeping prisoner and doing awful things to them. And now Dunland is in complete chaos; bloody savages, at least Saruman kept them in-line."

"Oh..." muttered Lotho, "I... was not aware of that. Uh... yes, forgive me, news travels slowly in these 'ere parts."

Miranda shot a side-glance at Abi, who just rolled her eyes. Yep, it seems they knew now where this fellow had been going...

"Anyway," continued Max, "sorry about holding you up, I'm sure your 'very important customer' doesn't want to be kept waiting."

"What do you want?" blurted Lotho.

"Directions, first and foremost," said Max, pulling out his MyPhone, "we have a map of The Shire Gondor gave us, but it's old and probably out-of-date. Moreover, it doesn't say, for example, where are all the best places to eat, where are the best places to stay, all the best sights to see, where can we get the best rates on everything. The Shire doesn't exactly have Priceline or anything. And I see you're busy, but if you know anyone around these parts who'd be a good tour guide, that's one. Two is..." he rolled his eyes towards the pile of sacks stacked high in the wagon, "...I spoke with a... Mr. Gandalf? His name ring a bell? I think he's pretty well-known around here. Before we left, he told us that the finest stuff, grown fresh and organically here in the Shire, runs at about a dozen silvers for a pound. Of course, seeing as we are only poor tired travelers here, if you might be willing to offer a better price..."

It took a few more minutes of haggling, though clearly the news of Isengard's abrupt downfall and the loss of whom they imagined was Mr. Baggins' biggest customer meant that they were the ones negotiating from the stronger position, and by the end of it, Mr. Smith Sr. walked away from it with whatever little space he had left in his and in Dino's and Chris's backpacks too all taken up, and a grin on his face wider and more childish than even his son's. Mr. Baggins bade them good day, and set off again on his merry way - if not to Isengard, then perhaps to one of the other townships in the South and East Farthing districts of The Shire.

"Should we do something about him?" asked Abi as she watched the wagon trundling off away from them, "report him? He had dealings with the White Wizard."

"Report him to who?" replied Max, "it probably won't do much at all. Saruman's gone for good; Mr. Baggins can't do much harm now. Besides, at least he seems smart enough to know that it's always better dealing with the winning side."

"Yeah, and it looks like he didn't know anything about what Saruman was up to," added Chris. "I don't think we could hold him complicit in that. He's just trying to make a living."

"A lot of guys serving in Saruman's army and in Mordor's army are 'just trying to make a living'," muttered Miranda, a little annoyed.

"Guys, let's worry about this when we get back to the colony," piped up Dino, "no point arguing 'bout it now. Dad, any useful info?"

Max checked the notes he had taken down on his MyPhone. "Yeah. It's another twenty miles to Bywater from here. We'll have lunch there and move onwards to Hobbiton in the afternoon. How's that sound to everyone?"

The group remounted their bikes, and Abi took a moment to chide the boys: "frankly, guys, I don't think we'll nearly be able to smoke all of this stuff in just the long weekend."

"You kidding? Most of this is for my own consumption once we're back at the colony," laughed Max, "and if it's really as good as Mr. The Grey says it is, I'll have to track down Mr. Lotho again before we head back to Earth, make sure I've got a lifetime supply. Might have to make, ahem, special arrangements with UNASEC customs, but should be done. Alright kids, let's get a move-on."

Everyone agreed, and as they kicked off back on the trail, Chris put his music back on with the next song on his playlist...

* * *

 _ **Green Shire**_

 _"Well, take me back where the green hills roll, yeah,  
Let me remember things I do love,  
Stoppin' at the top where the Ringwraiths bite,  
Ridin' along the riverbank at night,  
Barefoot elves dancin' in the moonlight._

 _I can hear the One Ring callin' me,  
Wonder if my hole's still there and homely.  
Love to kick my feet way down the shallow water,  
Shoo, fly, Dragon! Fly back to your mother!  
Pick up a Ring, skip it 'cross the Green Shire._

 _Well..."_


	51. The Holiday II

**The Shirriff (I)**

Robin Smallburrow had been with the force now for six years. He was one of the five Shirriffs assigned to the Westfarthing. Yeah, the force was admittedly rather severely understaffed, with only twenty of them for the whole Shire and the hundred thousand or so 'folk that inhabited it. And the Shirriffs were not exactly the most competent law enforcement agency in the world either; Robin himself had applied for the posting only because he thought it would be a great opportunity to wander about the Shire, you know, talkin' with folks and knowin' where the good beer was at.

But the good news was at least the Shirefolk were a generally peaceable bunch, little trouble to be found anywhere (or if there was, they did a respectable job sweeping it all under the rug and smiling and waving to him whenever he rode past). No, the most difficulty they had had in the last year was last autumn, when those strange bigfolk in the black hoods came riding into town. Ruddy great bastards had murdered Shirriff Tobias Hornblower on their way to Hobbiton, he was sure of it. Poor, poor Rosamunda and their three sons. And then Master Baggins and his gardener just disappeared just like that, as did those two troublemakers, Merry n' Pippin (the latter, of course, were not as great a loss at all). No one quite knew for sure where they had roamed off to, and quite a few folks suspected that these strangers had murdered them all. The Sackville-Bagginses had since moved in, claiming they had acquired it perfectly legally, and a passin' yeoman from Bree had claimed he'd seen Master Baggins and Gamgee out there, but Robin just wasn't sure what to make of all this.

Regardless, thank Eru those black riders left shortly thereafter, for whatever reason. But in the wake of their departure, Mayor Will Whitfoot had decided to respond to these bizarre occurrences by expanding the Shirriffs from twelve to the exceptionally large size of... twenty. Yes, twenty! Five for each o' the Farthings. This unprecedented rate of mobilization had the approval of most of the goodfolk, who were obviously concerned about any further instances o' violent crimes committed by these black-riders, but it had been met with some resistance from quite a few folk worried that their taxes were going to nothing more than sanctioning another eight fellows to basically do naught but wander about the Shire from one inn to another. At least the chap who had taken over Ol' Tobias' spot on the force, one Broncho Stonecrow, he seemed a decent fella.

He had been spending the last three days in Michel Delving (much of it drinking with his superiors, the First Shirriff and the Mayor) and was now riding back to his usual posting - that being the Green Dragon Inn, of course. He had just ridden in and had been enjoying a drink, when the older Missus Lily Brown had approached him with a complaint, going on and on about the latest batch of strangers to come about these parts...

"Oh Shirriff, do something!" implored Lady Lily.

"Now, hang on just a minute 'ere!" piped up Robin from his table, rather annoyed at being distracted from enjoying his ale in peace, "what is so problematic 'bout these 'ere big-folk? We 'ave bigfolk traverse through there parts all the time."

"Oh, nuthin' like these big-folk!" insisted Lily, "Rosie 'ere saw 'em! Three men and two women."

Rosie Cotton, the wench who worked the bar at the Green Dragon, and who had joined them at the table, simply rolled her eyes. "Shirriff Smallburrow, please forgive dear mother here, she gets a little worked up sometimes. Yes, there were five of them. They had dinner here and roomed here the night and then set off again after breakfast."

"I'm not exactly seeing the problem here," muttered Robin, "they paid their room and board, did they not?"

"Aye. All in Gondorian Castars too," said Rosie.

"Aye, but I wasn't 'ere last night, and if I was, I wouldn't 'ave let 'em anywhere near here!" said Lily. "Rosie told me they came in 'ere, smellin' strongly o' pipeweed, dressed all strange and improper. I saw 'em this mornin' as they was leavin', and they were showin' off far too much skin! Oh, the indecency! And then Rosie tells me of all the things they were talkin' about over dinner, as the other guests pressed 'em for questions on where they was from, and the ale was gettin' passed around by the keg-load, and that's when you know they was speakin' their honest minds out! Rosie, tell the man 'ere what you 'eard!"

"I don't actually recall most of it," said Rosie, quietly, "they mentioned they came from another world 'beyond the stars', an' they went on to talk about how there are many, many other worlds out there, floating around for billions an' billions o' years. They said that three o' the brightest stars we see at night are other worlds quite close to ours, each with other peoples upon them, an' how all of our worlds go around the same sun."

"Yes, complete rubbish!" asserted Lily, "Good sir, I'm a good, righteous, Eru-fearin' lady, and I read me the _Silmarillion_ all the time! And I know for a fact that there are no other worlds out there, ours is the one and true one that Eru himself created! This all must be some vile trickery that only Morgoth himself would think up! And they also had with them this small box that, by some sorcery, was able to conjure the most un-Eruly music imaginable! Laced with uncouth and indecent language, encouraging fair maidens to be all promiscuous, all young men to be unfaithful! It's Morgoth's own music, I'm sure of it!"

"Okay..." muttered Robin, not sure if perhaps he had already had his fill of ale. He beckoned to Rosie to get the tab, but Lily interrupted them.

"It gets worse!" she continued, "Rosie! Be a good girl and tell the Shirriff the last thing that happened last night when I wasn't 'ere!"

Rosie sighed. "So last night, as they were finishing up dinner, I told them what rooms we had open and asked how they wanted to sleep. I suggested three rooms, one for the elderly lord, and one each for the men and their wives. And they were downright confused by this at first, but then they explained that none of 'em were married at all, but that two o' them were involved in some kind of courtship, and that they were the two women among them. And then, to demonstrate their point, they _kissed_ each other. Yes, they kissed. Nothing big, an' most of the other patrons were too drunk to notice."

"Exactly! EXACTLY!" cried Lily, "oh Eru, will someone please think of the children?! Whatever is this world coming to? These must be the End Days, and Dagor Dagorapture could soon be upon us!"

Robin frowned. On one hand, it didn't quite feel right to be pokin' his nose into other people's personal affairs as long as they wasn't harmin' anybody else. But on the other hand, if one woman was indeed lying with another, then something queer was afoot. And in these quaint goodly parts, anything out of the ordinary was almost always bad.

"And where are these bigfolk now?" he inquired.

"They left this morning for Hobbiton," said Lily, "if you didn't seen 'em on yer way 'ere from Delving, then they must have gone north at the bridge!"

Shirriff Robin Smallburrow paid his tab, politely thanked Lily Brown and Rosie for their hospitality, and then set off again, in the direction that had been indicated. He was pretty certain that these "Sky-folk" were not evil, because from the sound of it, they were tall and clean and healthy otherwise quite attractive, more like in appearance to Elves than to wretched Orcs. But still, if all that had been told to him was true, then it warranted investigation. Besides, it's not like he had anything better to do other than finding the next inn.


	52. The Holiday III

**The Shirriff (II)**

A couple helpful pointers (and just as many _unhelpful_ ones) from the folk in Hobbiton had led Robin Smallburrow finally to this spot along the north road, past Bagshot Row and Overhill. There wasn't much in the way o' any traffic in these parts; most caravans preferred the route along the south bank of The Water, seeing as it was flatter land, better for wagons and beasts o' burden.

He rounded a corner, and up ahead saw one of the yeomanly crofters standing by the roadside, looking rather sullen in the face, fervently waving him down. Robin brought his mule to a halt and addressed the bystander: "why top o' the mornin' to ya, Mr. Boffin! I don' suppose you'd seen a few o' the bigfolk pass right through this way?"

"Bigfolk or not, they're ruddy great intruders on me property!" fumed Mr. Boffin, "Shirriff, I demand you remove 'em at once!"

"Wait just a minute 'ere, did you ask 'em nicely first?" asked Robin as he dismounted, "we don't want to be causin' any unnecessary unpleasantness 'round 'ere just yet."

"Well, no," harrumphed Mr. Boffin, "but what does that matter? Yer 'ere now and that's your job as Shirriff, is it not?"

"Very well," sighed Robin, "where'd you say they was at again?"

"Down by The Water, the glade right o'er there," beckoned Mr. Boffin.

"Wait, the commons?" asked Robin, "I believe that's all, y'know, common land, not s'posed to be part o' anyone's particular holdin's."

"Oh but o' course it is!" insisted Mr. Boffin, "me household is the only one in this part north o' Overhill. Fer nine generations, me pappy and me granpappy and his pappy before him all watered their herds down there. I water me cows n' sheep there all the time too. An' sometimes on a good spring like this one, I send for me next-o'-kin, tell 'em why don't they all come down from the Yale fer a visit, an' they come down an' we all go there together fer a feast by The Water. Point is: I make use o' it 'else it'd be lyin' fallow an' unused, and therefore tis' as good as mine!"

Robin raised a curious eyebrow. It's times like this the Shire could really do with a proper Land Commission...

Mr. Boffin continued: "but mine o' not, that's irrelevant. Point is that these 'ere 'folk are bein' _indecent_ to all the other goodly folk 'round 'ere, so 'tis your job to do somethin' 'bout it!"

"Wait a minute, I thought you said your freehold was the only one in this corner o' the woods?"

"I did," shrugged Mr. Boffin, "me household n' me, we're the goodly folk 'round 'ere! Can't 'ave these strangers givin' any disingenuous ideas to me dear children, can we?"

Leaving his mule in the charge of Mr. Boffin, Robin dismounted and made his way in the direction he'd indicated. Off the road, he noticed the fresh tracks through the mud, the lines where the grass was parted. They looked like cart-tracks, though the wheels were much thinner, and it looked like these carts o' theirs had only two wheels each, in line. Robin had heard the description o' these strange modes o' transportation from Rosie down at the Green Dragon - it was some kind o' contraption that you sat down on and somehow by some minor miracle managed to keep your balance and stop tippin' over, and then used your feet to turn the wheels, or somethin' to that effect.

He looked up ahead. Yes, those must be them exactly! There were five o' 'em, the strange, thin, two-wheeled vehicles, all stacked against the base of a tree, some kind of locked chain running through each of them to prevent them being stolen. Rose and the others who'd seen 'em in action swore these vehicles were quick and nimble like anything, and for a moment, Robin couldn't help but feel curious about tryin' one of these out for himself, even if he didn't quite think he could keep his balance.

The owners of these strange contraptions were not far off. He could hear laughter and splashing from the other side of the trees. That, and the other thing to strike him was... the smell. Like most Hobbits, Robin did enjoy a smoke every now and then, but this was _ridiculous_. Every young Hobbit thinks at some point that he can smoke more o' the pipeweed than any o' his peers an' still keep a straight head. And every young Hobbit learns sooner or later the consequences o' this, and learns from then on what's the right amount to smoke. But judging from the pungent reek that now met his nose, these bigfolk seemed determined to be puttin' even these young Hobbits to shame!

The next thing he noticed, drifting over the gurgling of the river, was the music. There was a pleasant and mellow lute playing, and it was accompanied by another instrument he could not quite place, and all the while a voice recited some kind of poem. He strained his ears to listen in...

 _"The continent of Atlantis was an island,_

 _Which lay before the Great Flood,  
In an area we call the Atlantic Ocean..."_

Robin was confused. _Atalantë?_ , he thought, _Numenor?_ Like all good Eru-fearin' Shirefolk, he'd o' course read scripture, knew o' the _Akallabeth_ and the downfall o' the greatest o' the realms o' Men. He listened in. The voice continued to droll on and on with its butchery o' this classic tale.

 _"So great an area of land,_

 _That from her western shores,  
Those beautiful sailors journeyed to the South and North Americas with ease,  
In their ships with painted sails._

 _"To the east, Africa was a neighbor,_

 _Across a short strait o' sea miles,  
The great Egyptian age is but a remnant o' the Atlantean culture."_

Robin had never heard o' any o' these places, this "America" and "Africa" and "Egypt". And he was pretty sure they weren't just the bigfolk's names for the places he knew out of scripture, as he was pretty sure the only time Numenor ever sent "beautiful sailors" out to Valinor, things hadn't exactly turned out the best for them.

 _"The Antediluvian Kings colonized the world,_

 _All the Gods who play in the mythological dramas,  
In all legends from all worlds were from Fair Atlantis._

 _"Knowing her fate, Atlantis sent out ships to all corners o' the Earth,_

 _On board were The Twelve:  
The Poet, the Physician, the Farmer, the Scientist,  
The Magician, and the other so-called "Gods" o' our legends."_

Wait a minute, _twelve_? Robin frowned. _I only 'eard five bein' named!_ Where'd these bigfolk learn to count? And "all corners o' the Earth"? Didn't Elendil and his sons and the rest of the Faithful just come straight to Gondor? These silly bigfolk don't even know their own history...

 _"And as the elders of our time choose to remain blind,_

 _Let us rejoice and let us sing and dance and ring in the new!  
HAIL ATLANTIS!"_

Okay, that was enough. Robin promptly got up, and stormed out from his hiding spot among the trees, out onto the glade. In spite of all he had been told up to now, he wasn't quite prepared for the sight that now met his eyes.

There were five of them, sure enough: there was the elderly gentleman, only that he was behaving anything but gentlemanly - at that moment, he could be seen swimming in the river, his head and shoulders bare and just barely sticking out from the water. There were the two younger men - they were both sprawled out on the grass on the riverbank, wearing nothin' 'bove the waistline save for some strange spectacles on their eyes that were completely black in color, prompting Robin to wonder how was it possible to see out o' them. One of them was engaged in stuffing more o' the pipeweed into a large and rather ornate wooden pipe - it was the only thing they had that looked in any way "normal", leading Robin to suspect that this was somethin' they'd prob'ly bought down in Bywater.

And yes, there were the two women as well, both of 'em swimming in the river, only their heads and shoulders visible and _scandelously_ bare. And yet, Robin had a difficult enough time taking his eyes off of them. They were both youthful and, dare he say so, rather easy on the eyes - not homely and quaint like most women he knew 'round 'ere, but taller and more graceful and lithe, more like the tales he'd heard of the Elves. One of them had perfect pale skin with flowing brown hair; the other had a darker complexion and sable black hair. Droplets of water ran down their smooth skin in rivulets, and they were dressed similarly to the men, 'cept for some dainty and lewd and garishly colored top-piece that, especially when drippin' wet and clingin' tightly to the skin, left little to the imagination. Yes indeed, Robin found himself staring at 'em a lil' longer than he had any right to; as much as he wanted to tell 'em off for their ribaldry right there and then, the sudden tightness in his breeches seemed to disagree.

And all the while, the music continued to droll on and on, and Robin could now see that none of them were actually singing or playing any instrument, but that this music was instead emanating from one of those sleek, shiny, tiny little boxes they had lying out and about their campsite...

 _"WAY DOWN, below the ocean,_

 _WHERE I wanna be, she may be,  
WAY DOWN, below the ocean,  
WHERE I wanna be, she may be..."_

The music came to an abrupt end. Robin snapped out of it and realized that the travelers had seen him and were now staring (or more appropriately, _glaring_ ) right back at him. One of the two younger men had his hand on that small, magic silver box where the music had been emanating from.

The first one to say anything was the older man, who stood up and rose from the waters of the river, and for the first time Robin finally got a glimpse o' the man's great frame and hairy chest and not to mention that tight black loincloth that was the only piece o' attire he was wearin' and had "SPEEDO" written across it in bright big letters, and felt the tightness in his own breeches subside almost immediately.

"Ugh! Put something on, Dad!", chided one of the younger men, "you're scaring the native!"

"Man up, boy!" retorted the older man. He then turned to face the Shirriff, picking up a towel as he strode up onto the riverbank to dry himself off. "Good day! How's it going?"

"I'm Robin..." squeaked Robin. He cleared his throat and began again, with more force and authority this time: "Robin Smallburrow, I'm the Shirriff 'round 'ere."

"The Sheriff?" japed the first of the younger men, "aw shit, it's the po-po! We're all in big trouble now!"

"Man, fuck da police!" laughed the other of the two men.

Robin did not know who or what a "fuck" was, though based on the context of how that bloke said it, it must have been somethin' rather vulgar. He didn't like that one bit.

"Chris, don't be such an ass!" called out one of the two ladies of the water, as she was coming up onto shore. "Can we help you?"

"Uh, yes. Um..." began Robin, "my apologies, but, well, you see, uh, yes, this 'ere is Farmer Boffin's land and... errr, I mean, it's not actually his land, but he asked me to come 'ere and ask you folks if, well, uh, if you didn't mind pipin' down a lil'."

"Are we really bothering everyone _that much_?" asked the elder man.

 _Oh, if only you knew half of it_... thought Robin.

The man strode up to where the boys were, and sat down. He then beckoned to Robin: "come, take a seat. Looks like you could sure use a smoke!"

As much as Robin thought he should know better, it was kind of impossible to pass up a pleasant riverside smoke at this time o' the day, especially if it meant he could keep an eye on the ladies - y'know, to keep 'em all proper and stayin' out o' trouble. So o' course he humbly obliged.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon by the time the "Sky-People" as they styled themselves finally got up, thanked Robin for his directions on the fastest way to Michel Delving in the hopes o' checkin' out the Mathom-house before closing time, and then finally went about on their merry way on those strange two-wheeled carts they called "bykes" or somethin'. Nifty devices, those; Robin figured he absolutely had to get himself one o' those fer himself one o' these days!

He sighed. Now to head back to Farmer Boffin and 'splain what took him so long. Fer all that was bein' said 'bout 'em, the bigfolk seemed a pretty pleasant lot once one actually sat down with 'em an' got to talk with 'em. O' course, half the stuff they said still came across as utter pish n' nonsense, though how much o' it was the rather generous doses o' pipeweed that had been passed around both before and after he'd got there was anyone's guess.

And this was perhaps what troubled him most: for all that was wrong about them - their attitude, their completely rubbish ideas, their strange music full o' vulgarity, their innocent insensitivity and disregard fer any "proper" behavior, and not to mention this whole business o' the two ladies layin' with each other - they were still just 'folk like he or anyone else in the Shire. Just common folk just tryin' to get along in life. Unfortunately, not everyone would see it this way, but to Robin, well, as long as they weren't stirrin' up too much trouble, and as long as they had gold aplenty on 'em, and were willin' to share a smoke, he didn't quite see what was the problem. After all, now that they were gone, it wasn't likely that he could ever expect any more o' these "Sky-People" to be comin' 'round this way ever again, right?

* * *

 _ **Writer's Footnotes:**_

 _Several folks have been asking me about this, so I felt compelled to clarify things a little. If you actually enjoyed these chapters, then feel free to ignore this section._

 _"The Holiday" subplot was intended to be a nice, short, funny break from the main story where we really get to explore the sheer cultural and moral dissonance between the Terrans and the natives._ _In this case, The Shire was originally modeled by Tolkien on 19th/early 20th century rural England. Therefore, The Shire is depicted in these chapters as ultra-conservative and ultra-religious because people in Old Rural England *were* ultra-conservative and ultra-religious by our modern standards. Working in the Silmarillion as some in-universe bible was meant to be a bit of an injoke referencing Tolkien's own religious views._

 _This chapter showcases what might happen, realistically, when you take modern people with liberal views on things like homosexuality, scanty clothing, and recreational drugs, and make them interact with an ultra-conservative society. You would have some people, like Lily Brown, complaining about "indecency" because these modern values do indeed stand in direct conflict with traditional mores. But you would also have moderate people like the Shirriff who are more "let them do whatever they like as long as they're not harming anyone". Inevitable cultural conflicts is something a lot of crossover fanfics are guilty of glossing over, so in this case, I felt the right thing to do was not to shy away but to instead confront this head on, try to show both sides of the argument, and invite reader discussion (in a civil and respectful manner of course)._

 _The tourists depicted in this chapter were heavily inspired by real life events: between 1968 and 1973 (coincidentally, the year of Tolkien's death), tens of thousands of hippies undertook pilgrimages to remote parts of the world like India, Nepal, and Afghanistan. Hence, the music choices that include hits from that time period as well as the counterculture poem about Atlantis. Actually, the tourists are less like HIPPIES and more like YUPPIES in that while they may have socially progressive views, they are still active agents of the modern corporate, neoliberal, globalization-oriented economy. Then again, a lot of those hippies did grow up to become successful businessmen and entrepreneurs, like Steve Jobs, as well as two friends of mine who run a tech firm in California._

 _Interestingly, Tolkien's books were actually highly influential on the 1960's counterculture, and so, in a way, these chapters show what happens when a culture Tolkien CREATED meets a culture he INSPIRED._


	53. Soulreaver

**The Soulreaver (I)**

Well below her, the pitiful fleet that the Asur had mustered burned where they lay. Glistening white starwood and linen turned black and then into ash and salt spray as one by one, each of the burning Eagleships and Hawkships began to sink, pulling what little remained of each one and its crew down into the black depths below. A few of their own ships and the lifeless carcasses of several of their beasts too joined them on their final forlorn journey to their watery grave, but on the whole, the battle had been quick and a clear victor had emerged.

From her perch upon Firaxes, Tyr'ale Soulreaver could not help but smile with contentment. The black dragon let out a blood-curdling roar of triumph as it sailed through the clouds, great ragged but powerful leathery wings beating wildly. The shimmering scales and spines beneath her backside shifted and rippled back and forth constantly as her mount flew onwards, and even with her decades of experience, Tyr'ale had to strike a careful balance of concentration between the reins she clutched tightly in her left hand, and her Hydra Blade brandished by her right, all the while keeping her legs gripped tightly around the neck of Firaxes to keep herself from falling off entirely.

To any lesser creature, this ordeal would have been a discomforting one at best and absolutely excruciating at worst, but Tyr'ale was no lesser creature. Aye, still a child at a mere seventy years of age and yet already accomplished in the arts of war and deception; their victory today was but another stepping stone, another marker on her legend. She tugged back on the reins, and Firaxes shot a gout of flame into the air at his master's bidding. It sounded almost like a belch to signify his contentment with the amount of Asur warriors he had devoured that day.

The smaller and faster Corsair and Reaver-class vessels had already pushed on ahead of the fleet, their black and purple sails fluttering triumphantly in the wind, the crews upon them taking a moment to bask in their glory before returning to their duties under the crack of the ship-master's whip. What prisoners there were to take had been already been secured, whatever trinkets and treasures there were to plunder already seized. The Asur had been dealt a bitter lesson today, never to interfere with the Dreadfleet of Hag Graef; their wayward cousins should consider themselves fortunate that they were merely passing close to Ulthuan on their voyage east.

And now, moving below her, like some enormous leviathan from a more primordial age gliding across the sea, there came Lord Fellheart's personal flagship, the _Tower Of Blessed Dread_. It was less ship or tower and more an entire castle put to sea, one of the many ancient stone citadels that had broken themselves free of the old homeland back in the days of The Sundering, kept afloat through the ages through the arcane arts. It must have been these same energies that now pushed this great warship forwards through the waves, for the stone obelisks and towers that served as its masts, and the sails strung between them, looked painfully inadequate small next to the sheer bulk of the vessel they allegedly propelled. In spite of its size, _Blessed Dread_ plowed forward through the waves quickly enough to keep pace with the rest of the fleet, these ships appearing tiny, little more than a school of fish against a black stone whale. One of the Eagleship wrecks, still half-afloat in the waves, was cleaved clean in half as the Black Ark's elaborately carved prow, a Kraken cast in black steel, cut through it and moved onwards with ponderous disregard.

At Tyr'ale's bidding, Firaxes swooped back down towards their flagship. The dragon flapped its wings wildly as it come to hover, then to drop down and perch at rest atop one of the forward stone towers, tearing off small pieces of the masonry as it did so, chunks of black stone and tile splashing down into the sea below. Tyr'ale paid no attention to these minor damages; if the ship could not heal itself, then it would simply fall to the slaves to repair whatever scratches Firaxes left behind upon the Krakenlord's ride.

This tower was the one that Lord Malus had taken up as his personal quarters, and sure enough, he could be seen there, standing on the balcony, surveying the carnage from his vantage spot. Clearly, he desired to be left alone, for not even his retainer Hauclir was present. The look of disdain he gave her as she dismounted and strode over to his side merely confirmed this.

"I would say that our campaign is off to a good start," mused Tyr'ale as she approached him, "and I highly doubt the Asur will be too quick to warn the Mon'Keigh of our presence."

Malus, however, did not seem to share her enthusiasm. He frowned. "If this is the best they can do, then perhaps we should immediately divert southwards, make our landings on Ulthuan now, whilst they reel from their defeat."

"Have patience, Darkblade, all in good time," she asserted, "this sacred mission that you have taken upon yourself was ordained by His Dread Majesty the Witch King himself. He alone will determine when comes the time to commence our final retaking of what is rightfully ours."

Malus shook his head. "By the time we return, they'll have had time to muster the rest of the fleet. Dragonships included."

"Then we shall simply sink that fleet as succinctly as we did this one," sneered Tyr'ale. "Think, Malus, if we truly had the strength to, would we not have retaken the homeland by now? No, this fleet is but a fraction of their total strength. But our King is ever wise. Trust in him, there will come a time for our return, and, Khaine willing, it shall come soon enough. But not today. No, we must remain focused on this task he has lain before us... 'else I would have sent Lord Do'urdan well ahead of us for no good reason at all."

"Is it... too late to recall Lord Do'urdan and his crew?" he asked, "to send a dragon out to him?"

Tyr'ale could not believe what she was hearing; this was not the Malus she knew of from the tales she had heard for decades now, or even from the last few weeks they had known each other in person. But... that must mean that something was indeed wrong with him, and she suspected she knew what it was. "It is not the voyage ahead nor the missed opportunity that perturbs you, isn't it?" she inquired, "it is something, or _someone_ else?"

Malus glared at her. "You would do wise to keep that gaping maw of yours sealed," he hissed, "this private matter is of no concern to you." Instinctively, he placed a hand upon the treasured Warpsword he always kept upon his person, as if to threaten her.

Tyr'ale, however, stood her ground, and kept pressing him. She was young, but she had confidence in her skills and in the authority vested in her by the Witch-King himself. If something was troubling her co-commander on this expedition, then it was better to confront him about it now before it could become an issue. "This 'private matter' has a proper name, you know," she said, "what is it that you fear of _Tz'arkan_? He is part of you, for how long now, is he not?"

Malus deliberately ignored her and looked away. Before either of them could say anything more, their privacy was interrupted.

"Master!" spoke Hauclir as he approached, bowing. "The Krakenlord demands your presence in the sacred plaza at once."

Malus, however, said nothing, and showed no sign of wanting to break off his solace just yet. So Tyr'ale instead answered in his place: "Hauclir, your master thanks you for this conveyance, but it appears he does not wish to be disturbed at this time. Will I suffice in his place?"

Hauclir did not know how best to answer it, so when no answer was forthcoming from either of them, she interpreted this to mean "yes".

Leaving her co-commander of the fleet and his retainer alone, she strode down the spiral stairs, and out onto the pavement. To the extent that the _Tower Of Blessed Dread_ was an entire city afloat, so too did it have its own streets and alleyways that divided the individual walls and structures raised upon her deck. The places where the deck remained open were like plazas and bazaar-spaces, and it was here, in the foremost of these, that the largest altar to Khaela Mensha Khaine had been erected. It was also the quickest and most accessible to reach, so it made sense to convene there.

When she arrived there several minutes later, Tyr'ale saw some two dozen or so Asur, their fairer complexion and attire in sharp contrast to the Druchii Corsairs who restrained them. These were the highest ranking nobles and ship-masters - or at least, those who were remaining or next-in-command (any true warrior among the Asur knew what fate awaited him in the hands of the Druchii, and would have gone down fighting; these ones were the unlucky few who had survived to have been captured).

Also standing there was Lord Lokhir Fellheart. He was breathing heavily, audible even under the black Kraken-helm he wore.

"I see you're still exhausted by the... uh..." quipped Tyr'ale, "...remind me again, what _exactly_ were you doing during the battle?"

"Nay, m'lady," spat Lord Fellheart, glaring fiercely at her, "the command bridge is located aft... near the rudder. I... had to run the length... o' this vessel... 'else this tale would be over by the time I arrived."

Tyr'ale rolled her eyes and instead turned her attention to their guests. Immediately, she singled one of them out among the others: a noble-lady, splattered in blood Asur and Druchii both from the battle, though her lengthy battle-robes still carried a regal air about them, and betrayed the sigil that marked her allegiance as belonging to one of the Houses of Caledor itself. Tyr'ale smiled smugly. She strode up to this captive, and looked her eye-to-eye.

"Name?" she commanded.

The Caledorian noblewoman said nothing, but spat at her face.

"Worthless wretch!" snarled one of the Corsairs restraining her, yanking back on the chain and causing her head to jerk back and gasp, "you speak when spoken to! What is your name?!"

"Drizzt, that is enough!" commanded Tyr'ale, calmly holding up her hand, "I like this one, she has spirit. Take her to my quarters at once."

Drizzt and his fellow Corsairs were confused, but obeyed all the same, and began hauling their captive forwards, following their master.

"And what of the rest, m'lady?" barked Lord Lokhir gruffly as she turned to leave.

Tyr'ale paused for a moment as she considered this, and then spoke: "Why dispense with them of course. I have nothing more to seek from any of them. But we have much to seek of Khaine and his infinite grace."

Lokhir grunted in approval, and at his command, the Executioners gathered there all stepped forward, one to each of the remaining prisoners. They raised their _Draichs_ all in unison, and brought them down in a single motion. Blood ran across the plaza that day, staining the paving stones, and, Khaine willing, granting them the strength and fortune to push them onwards, ever closer towards these wretched, insolent Mon'Keigh who dared call themselves "the Sky-People"...


	54. Earth 6: Total War

***[EXCERPT]***

"[...] as you can imagine, one of the biggest challenges we have faced on _Total War™: Epsilon Eridani_ is achieving game balance, given the sheer power differentials we are seeing even among the native factions of the system. Balancing the Earth factions was actually the easiest, as we felt that the as-yet limited presence of The Company™ and the UN in the system would justify capping the Earth faction armies at very small numbers and limiting the use of air support, orbital strikes, and other force multipliers. We imagine that, being limited to no more than a few dozen units (against native armies that will number in the thousands), Earth factions will play more like squad-level, first-person shooters, and that it will really only be the native factions who will be commanding armies in more of a traditional strategy-game manner.

"However, whereas balancing the Earth factions' power was a relatively straightforward matter of simply capping their numbers very low, we could find no similar justification for the more powerful EE factions. The final roster of playable factions we are in the process of developing ranges from Europe's Dark Ages, right up to even the American "Roaring Twenties" for our first DLC (if we are aiming for a November release for TW:EE, then that should give us enough time to develop the EE-L3 factions as a "Day One DLC" that can be offered freely to those who preorder the Collector's Edition). All other factors being equal, a medieval-level army can never defeat a more advanced Early Modern Era army unless numbers are on their side. We are trying to use the "magic" mechanics and also sheer numbers to try to balance out the less-advanced armies with the more developed ones. However, this might be inconsistent with real life, as most of the more technologically and/or thaumologically advanced native nations in the system are _also_ the much more populous and economically prosperous ones.

"For these reasons, I believe that further investment into trying to balance all of the factions' militaries on the strategy map is a lost cause. The only practicable way to achieve proper strategic balance would be to set lower, more easily-achievable victory conditions for the less developed nations. On the tactical level and in "Skirmish Mode", the easiest way to achieve game balance is to simply price each unit according to its "power level" and then give each faction a fixed and equal point-allotment at the start of the match.

"I hope this report has been helpful.

"Respectfully submitted,  
D. Kobori"

* * *

 ***[EXCERPT]***

"Yes, yes that sounds fine to me. Our development team at SEAGA-DICE working on _Battlefield™: Epsilon Eridani_ have discussed a similar issue with me last week and they are working on a different solution. It warrants mentioning that they are also much closer to releasing a trailer than your division is. Regardless, we will discuss more on this matter once you return from Toronto. Normally, I would ask of you that you please do not return bearing any unexpected and unpleasant surprises, but unfortunately, I expect that the Board will see fit to unduly burden us with yet another complication arising from the EE System.

"Good day,  
M. Fukyushitsu"

* * *

 ***[EXCERPT]***

"[...] and thus, to conclude, I feel that for these reasons, it would be best to temporarily relocate the development team to the campus at Stockholm for closer creative coordination between my cell and our counterparts at SEAGA-DICE. That is why I have requested permission and approval for the funds to send my colleague, Mr. Kamiya, on a two-day inspection tour to the Nordic Alliance, so that he may meet with Mr. Olafsson in person and inspect the premises. I myself will be unable to attend, due to my prior commitment towards appearing on our behalf at the next convening of the Board in Toronto.

"Most respectfully,  
D. Kobori"

* * *

 ***[EXCERPT]***

"[...] I appreciate your concern. However, I am afraid that I simply cannot approve the funds you are requesting at this time. Please forward my apologies to Mr. Olafsson and the rest of the creative team at SEAGA-DICE; while I have little doubt that they are on-time and on-budget with regard to the development of _BF:EE_ , I nonetheless feel that for your entire cell to relocate to the other side of the world at this time would be an unwise move.

"M. Fukyushitsu"

* * *

 **SEAGA World Headquarters**  
 **Block 38, Shimizu Megacity Pyramid-3**  
 **Tokyo Bay, Greater Tokyo Metropolis**  
 **Kanto Region, Empire Of Japan**

Masuda Fukyushitsu had read and reread all of his email correspondences with Mr. Kobori in the last few weeks leading up to today. Nothing anywhere to suggest that Dominic- _kun_ had been suspicious of his activities. Just before he had sent them off on their important mission, he had also had Satoko and Satoshi hack into and search through all of his personal files, all several hundred petabytes of it, and they had found nothing to report either. He frowned. No, it appears that everything had been fine with him and he, like all the others, never suspected a thing... at least not until he came back from Toronto.

By now, it was clear: _she_ must have done this. Curses. If Ellen Kovacs was onto him, then it was highly likely that another, more powerful Kovacs was too. It was a small relief that at the very least Satoko had been smart enough to recognize who she was right away, and realize that killing her together with Mr. Kobori would have been far more trouble than keeping her alive. If it was true that The CEO was now aware of his dealings, then he would need a potent bargaining chip if he was to survive.

Without warning, the holo-projector on his desk lit up, though he was used to it by now; the person on the other end did not exactly value people's privacy. The holographic projection took the shape of a man, though its precise features were heavily pixelated. "Well?" spoke a gruff voice, passing through an artificial synthesizer to keep its speaker anonymous, though he knew who it was right away, "has the ongoing _pressing matter_ been adequately dealt with?"

"Master," said Fukyushitsu, bowing his head slightly, "it... it is a work in progress. Rest assured, Satoshi is in hot pursuit of the offending individuals, and I am preparing to activate additional units as well."

"As a replacement for that Nexus-unit you allowed them to destroy," sneered the hologram, "these aren't exactly cheap and easy to come by, mind you."

Fukyushitsu winced. It was not very pleasant to be reminded of the magnitude of his first costly failure of the evening. As much as "she" was little more than a thing, an object for his personal use, he quietly admitted that he had grown somewhat fond of Satoko. It would be sorely missed. Not least of all, he would need to come up with some story to inform the rest of the office tomorrow as to what exactly had happened to her (since Satoko had been a regular here in Block 38, always showing herself around the office to politely remind everyone that Big Brother was always watching and keeping tabs on their productivity). Not to mention he would have to explain the same to the board when he eventually filed the requisitions order for a replacement (though perhaps he could get a Nexus-7 this time, or maybe even a surplus 8 now that the 8.1 had been released).

The voice continued: "perhaps I should remind you of the extent and gravity of this security breach that you allowed."

"It will not happen again," gulped Fukyushitsu.

"It need only happen _once_ ," seethed the voice, "I want every unit you have activated immediately. I want lockdown on our facility. I want you to begin scrubbing all our classified data from the servers."

"Master, are these measures necessary? We will have Mr. Kobori and Ms. Kovacs back in our captivity shortly and..."

"At this point, we must prepare for the worst," interrupted the hologram, "you let them slip through your fingers once, I do highly recommend you abstain from doing so again, 'else I'll make damn sure that they come for _you_ first before they come for me. Good night."

As abruptly as it had come, the hologram dissipated. Mr. Fukyushitsu calmly removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. His brow was sweating profusely. It was a pity to eliminate such a young and talented individual as Mr. Kobori, but alas, he had no choice. If any of that data was allowed to fall into the wrong hands, it would be the end for him.


	55. Earth 7: TechNoir

_**Writer's Note:** Ladies and gentlemen, I have a small confession to make: ever since I started writing a subplot to this story set in a cyberpunk future, I knew that I absolutely wanted to have a motherfucking RAVE sequence at some point. Well, today, that dream finally comes true! Readers are advised to put on their headphones and put on their favorite electronic dance track for reading the next chapter._

* * *

 **Yoshiwara District,**  
 **Shinjuku Ward, Greater Tokyo Metropolis**  
 **Kanto Region, Empire Of Japan**

The figure in black leapt from the roof down to the overhang below, as it descended, the flaps of the trench-coat it wore spreading out like wings. And then, in one movement, it landed and came to a crouching position and began surveying the scene before it. Bright neon and LED signs flashed and shown and cast their aura to illuminate the otherwise narrow and dark avenue below, though the figure's own perch was just out of the light's reach, shrouded in shadow, a perfect vantage point.

Thousands of organics were out and about, organics of every demographic, engaged in a range of acts that organics, with their weaknesses of the flesh, are inclined to engage in at this time of the night. Hundreds of synthetics were also present, interacting with their organic creators. These ranged from the more basic metallic forms, usually those reserved for more menial labors such as police patrol units and street-sweepers disposing of litter, to those that were moulded to look far more like their organic counterparts (and usually, for purposes of providing companionship), though the figure could tell most of these apart based purely on their movement and a quick full-body scan of their composition and thermal signature.

There. Up ahead was its target. The biometrics all checked out. The figure stood up once more, and then took a running start and leapt onto the roof of the next building, a predator in hot pursuit of its prey.

* * *

 **Not too far away...**

When the sun goes down is when the Shinjuku really comes to life and reveals its true colors. Usually, Dom loved to come out here with some of the guys from work, just to let off some steam - even when he wasn't _actively_ trying to kill you, Mr. Fukyushitsu sure knew how to passively kill his subordinates it seems from the sheer weekly workload. Now that Dom thought about it, if he really was secretly working to sabotage The Company™'s efforts, that would explain some of his more questionable decisions over the last year...

The Yoshiwara was cordoned off as pedestrian only at night, or at least the ground level as when one looked above, one could still see the nearly endless streams of headlights above, crisscrossing what little of the sky above could be seen in a neat grid pattern. Much closer to the ground, elevated maglevs hummed silently back and forth across tracks suspended a couple dozen meters above the ground. Brilliant, animated LCD billboards covered entire sides of buildings, stretching from just above the ground level, all the way up dozens of stories, flashing with ads for _UltraSonic 27_ (currently under development by a separate cell at SEAGA), for the latest Panajitsu holo-tablet, for _Pinko-Bunny SupaEnergy Drink™_ (a popular and widely consumed by-product of Mitsuibishi Chemicals Inc.), or for the newest gene-therapy treatments and body augmentations being offered by Soni-Yutani Eugenix ("Why be _you_ , when you can be _new_?").

And the street was crammed with people. Tens of thousands of people. A mere drop in the bucket of a city of over a hundred million inhabitants, but enough to make the narrow streets and avenues of the Yoshiwara appear claustrophobic and menacing to someone not used to the big city. Usually, Dominic was used to this. But tonight was different: he felt terrified, knowing that somewhere out there in the crowd, someone was coming to kill him.

It was Ellen's suggestion that they stay in crowded areas, in the hopes that the thermal signatures of so many other people in close proximity would better conceal them. And most importantly, they had to keep moving. Dom looked to the side, forlornly, at a passing patrol mech of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Dept., towering five meters tall, its loudspeakers blaring polite reminders to the citizenry to stand out of its way and stay out of trouble, as it thundered ponderously along the street. He wanted to go straight to the police, knew that they had the mechs and weapons and training specialized for taking down rogue synthetics. But he also knew it would be pointless; in an organization as large and corrupt as the Tokyo Metropolitan Police, one could never be too careful just whom were they talking to. Different bureaus and sections and individual agents within the force were known to be on different corporate and mob-boss's payrolls, including several on Mr. Fukyushitsu's.

"Hold my hand," commanded Ellen, interrupting Dom's train of thought. "Try to act casual, like we're tourists out on a stroll. We'll blend in better that way."

Being hunted by a killer robot at the command of his crazy boss was a new experience for Dominic, so naturally "acting casual" was kind of out of the question for him. He tried his best though, gazing around them as they walked on through the streets, trying to gawk like he imagined a tourist would but actually looking around out of fear, looking for that familiar face he'd always seen in office and never once imagined it would be the death of him.

The world famous (or _infamous_ , depending on your point-of-view) Shinjuku drew people from all over Earth and across the Colonies to her gleaming glass spires and neon lights - people of every age, race, position, and, of course, every conceivable idea of what constituted "leisure". Here, a meek and middle-aged man walked hand-in-hand with a blonde bombshell of a _Gaijin_ woman that was _way_ out of his league - a closer look revealed that she was, as Dom suspected, a Ninuendo Robotics Inc. Basic Pleasure Model, probably of the 700-series. There, he could see two rival gangs of heavily tattooed punks with spiky hair facing off; each gang had selected their champion, and now that champion could be seen summoning a holographic _Chinpokimon™_ to fight the other gang's. The rest of the punks stood back and cheered wildly as the pint-sized digital monsters brutally battled it out for domination.

Up above, a gigantic holo-screen was showing outtakes from the day's big match at Tokyo Colosseum: Defender-Z had defeated reigning champion Empress Mosura and would be progressing to the Finals next week. Dom turned the other way, and saw a _bosozoku_ gang, two men, a woman, and two other members of indeterminate gender, dressed head-to-toe in red-and-white leather and zipping past them on their highly customized Segways (just about the only motor vehicles allowed on these streets during pedestrian-only hours).

"In here," commanded Ellen, abruptly. Dom turned to look where she was indicating, and saw just above them the twenty-foot holographic letters that floated in the air, advertising to all:

 **TECHNOIR** **テクノワール**

Two lines of stanchions, red velvet rope strung between them, divided the entrance to the building between the VIP line, and the line for everyone else. Ellen was leading him up the VIP aisle, drawing dirty looks from the rest of the people in the regular line, some of whom must have been waiting there for _hours_.

"Identification, please," barked the bouncer, a gruff middle-aged man wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket, though Dom knew he was actually a synth - probably not a Nexus, but one of the cheaper knock-offs, judging from how fake and rubbery his skin looked despite the manufacturer's best efforts. But he was still sure that the machinery underneath that skin could still fuck him up royally if he tried to pull a fast one.

Ellen, however, was prepared. She calmly waved her MyPhone in front of the bouncer's face, and whispered "you don't need to see our identification."

Whatever software she had installed on it was able to easily hack a lower-tier synth as the bouncer abruptly replied: "I do not need to see your identification."

"You would also like to waive cover charges," whispered Ellen.

"I am waiving cover charges," replied the bouncer, flatly, "we are honored by your patronage, Mr. and Mrs. Kaneda. The VIP lounge and amenities will be at your disposal, along with a complimentary first round of both a beverage and a psychedelic consumable of your choice. Enjoy your evening."

"What?" sneered the young man standing at the front of the non-VIP line. "Hey, you just let those two _Gaijin_ just waltz right in, but we've been standing out here all evening!"

The bouncer calmly held up its hand towards the offending individual, turned its head to face him, and spoke plainly: "talk to the hand."

"Well, at least you saved us a couple dozen Credits," muttered Dominic as he and Ellen made their way past the bouncer and through the double doors and into the long entrance tunnel to TechNoir, flickering holographic flames covering each wall.

"They can track us through credit card transactions," whispered Ellen, "and I need to save our cash for when we might really need it."

At the end of the long tunnel, another set of garage-sized double doors opened up onto the central atrium of TechNoir. Real estate in Tokyo was at a premium, so if anything, it was an expression of conspicuous extravagance that the internal cavern-space Dominic now beheld before him would have rivaled most warehouses for size. The revenue that sustained such excess came from the hundreds of patrons who now crowded its vast interior, each seemingly in their own world.

The atrium was a roughly circular chamber, spanning five storeys in height. A central tower in the center of the room held the DJ's station: a young man dressed like a total tool, with sunglasses, headphones, and a glowing neon jacket with LED lights built into it, dancing and jumping up and down like he was coked up on every legal drug on the market (and he probably _was_ ). Lazy shithead didn't have to do much of anything since the AI running his sound system was probably doing all his work for him - as far as Dom knew, as long as there was a fast and constant bassline thumping, the crowd was probably too high to care.

Strobe lights flashed and purple lasers arced back and forth across the room while smoke machines hissed furiously. The lighting scheme bathed the entire area in shades of blue and purple and ultraviolet, while twenty-foot holograms of abstract shapes and shifting patterns adorned the walls. Exotic dancers, robotic and human both, plied their trade in tight neon spandex upon balconies or on raised platforms above the dance floor. At least two dancers, a man and a woman, were suspended from the ceiling on cables, and performing some bizarre mid-air stunts, forming weird shapes and positions with their bodies that Dom would have never thought possible.

In spite of the best efforts of the ventilation and air filters TechNoir had invested in, it still stank: that mix of body odor, sweat, makeup, smoke, spilled drinks, and other lovely aromas that arise from packing hundreds of organic, living beings into one enclosed space. And, of course, there was the sound: deep, fast, aggressive, issuing forth from various hidden speakers place strategically around the chamber, the throbbing strong enough to make hairs stand on edge - it was well-known that TechNoir supplemented their music with various infrasounds played and tuned to just the right frequencies to provoke certain reactions within their clientele.

This was just the first room. Branching out from the central atrium were several of the smaller chambers, each one catering to a different taste whether in terms of music or decor or whatever poison its patrons picked as their "leisure-enhancer" for the evening. One of these was located at the top of the circular staircase that snaked its way around the edge of the room, and it was here that Ellen now led him. It took some pushing to get through the crowd taking up positions along the stair, until at last they pushed through the doors and entered...

The Red Room, named for its different lighting and mood from the central atrium. The wall-holograms here were different, taking symmetrical patterns that sometimes deliberately almost looked like something coherent, if only to elicit a reaction from those watching them - like some coked-up fantasy Rorschach Test, people saw what their minds told them to see, based on factors like their personality, memories, or simply the composition of the cocktail of substances they had just ingested.

Here, Dom was able to get a better look at the occupants since there were much less of them. The men and women servicing the bar wore the same uniform outfit: skin-tight grey latex full-body suits with what were either gas-masks, or else gimp masks but with industrial-grade goggles and some kind of breathing apparatus attached.

Night-clubbers came in every shape and form - teenagers, middle-aged, even a few disgusting old men, more often than not accompanied by a woman who looked _half_ their age. Several cat-people could be seen intermingling around the crowd; people who for some reason thought to enhance their bodies with extensive augmentations and gene-therapy made to give them animalistic features like narrow catlike eyes, fangs, fur in... certain areas, or even cat-ears or a tail. One cat-girl walked right past Dom and Ellen, her tail perked up and sweeping his face; Dominic did not like it one bit. What was wrong with the human body as it was that these people felt the need to change it so drastically?

And finally, seated at the far end of the bar, he could even see an Arcturian, the only alien he had seen all night thus far; he (or she? Not to be xenophobic or anything, but Dom couldn't tell the difference) was sitting alone, chatting with the nearest barman - its voice sounded like a series of high-pitched screeches, though the barman probably had a universal translator earpiece.

Ellen, calmly but briskly, led the way to the area of the Red Room where the individual VIP rooms were located. The security guard patrolling back there, presumably another synth, identified the two of them as "Mr. and Mrs. Kaneda" and beckoned them in to a vacant room. It smiled and winked as they entered. Dom nodded politely, and closed and locked the door behind them.

The room was decorated and furnished, three large couches arranged around a low central table where the drinks and chems would be laid out, a variety of pillows and cushions covering each couch. The far wall was made entirely of smart-glass, a window looking back down onto the central atrium, although the opacity could be electronically controlled so as to permit greater privacy to its occupants, as could the sound-proofing of the room. Ellen's first action was to do just that. They could still hear the throbbing and the beat from outside, but now it was a little more muffled, giving this room at least the illusion of privacy.

"Okay..." said Dominic, plopping down on one of the couches, "if this is your idea of a date..."

Ellen glared at him. She spoke, willfully ignoring his last statement: "we'll stay here until we can figure out the next step. Hopefully, so many thermal signatures concentrated in one place will be enough to throw off Satoshi's thermal sensors. That, and these rooms are specially built to hide thermal sigs of the occupants, just in case someone outside is trying to spy on a VIP's... _personal activities_."

Dom was certain he knew what she was referring to. Ellen, meanwhile, sat down on the couch facing him, massaging her temples as she tried to concentrate. "Think, Ellen, think. What's the next step?"

* * *

 **Not too far away...**

With a precisely-planned and timed leap, the figure in black sailed through the air and landed on the next roof. It turned around and performed a quick scan. Good, its presence and movement had not been observed by any of the beings down on the ground level. It turned its attention back to the next task before it, finding a way into this establishment the organics called "TechNoir"...

"Intruder!" blurted a monotone voice, "please remove yourself from these premises at once before..."

The security-bot, a cheap unit assigned to guard this part of the roof, did not finish its statement before the figure in black was upon it, closing the distance with lightning speed. It punched its gloved hand right into the security-bot's chestplate with enough force to break clean through. It found the circuitry it was looking for, grabbed it, and then pulled its hand back out of the bot's torso, tearing the vital components out. The bot collapsed to the floor and the figure in black continued unhindered on its path to its objective.


	56. Earth 8: Servants Of The Great Machine

**Club TechNoir, Yoshiwara District,**  
 **Shinjuku Ward, Greater Tokyo Metropolis**  
 **Kanto Region, Empire Of Japan**

The figure in black made it way across the room. All around him could be seen the feeble organics as well as machines that, like him, were made to emulate their form. The figure noted at least one xeno-specimen too in the room, one of the genus _Arcturicanum_. Curious, though not completely unanticipated.

But neither of these were of any concern to it at this moment. Its optical sensors were focused on the door up ahead, one of the dozen or so that demarcated the private quarters of those organics who considered themselves superior to the others. A quick scan of the area around it revealed no immediate threats - most of the sentry units in this part of the building must have been summoned to the rooftop to investigate the sudden disappearance of one of their own. Good.

The figure in black reached the door. Curiously, it wasn't locked. One would think that they would have done so, unless they had other plans. The figure opened the door slowly and scanned the room. It's suspicions were confirmed, the room was empty. They had already gone, but not by much.

* * *

 **Not too far away...**

"I don't think we're allowed to be snooping around back here," remarked Dominic as Ellen led the way through the double doors into one of the maintenance hallways at the back of the club. Unlike the rest of the building, it was narrow but clean and brightly lit, the walls all white-washed. They could still hear the music from the dance floor perforate the walls here, but this place was empty, reserved only for the staff and security. Another set of double doors of polished steel stood at the far end of the corridor.

"Looks like we can't stay anywhere more than ten minutes," cautioned Ellen, checking her MyPhone which by then had tapped into the club's main grid, "if the security 'bots are all heading to the roof, that means he's already here." As much as Dom would have wanted to stay a little while longer, y'know, make good on the free drink and other goodies that came with the room, he reluctantly agreed she was right.

They approached the doorway at the end of the hall. Just as they were about to reach it, however, it slammed open, kicked in with great strength by someone or something on the other side. Dom was horrified: standing there in the doorway was Satoshi.

"Run, Dom!" commanded Ellen. Before she could do anything else, Satoshi was already upon her, grabbing her by the neck. Ellen gagged.

Dominic, foolishly, did not run. Or, rather, he did, just in the opposite direction, towards their assailant. He didn't know what the hell was it that incited him to charge a Nexus-unit head-on for the second time that night. Just as before, it failed.

Satoshi, still holding onto Ellen, turned and threw her into his way. Ellen's body smashed into Dominic, and they both crumpled onto the floor in a heap. Dom tried to disentangle himself from her, decided there and then that what he had just done was incredibly stupid, but if he was going to die, might as well do it with some dignity. He tried to stand up. Satoshi could have killed him in an instant, and yet he was taking his time for some reason, almost as if he were enjoying this. That was when Dom heard the door behind them, the one he and Ellen had come through seconds earlier, slam wide open.

"Mr. Kobori, you may wish to duck," boomed a new voice that Dom had never heard before, deep and baritone and commanding enough that he just had to obey. He threw himself back onto the ground next to Ellen.

A split-second later, the source of this mysterious voice appeared in Dom's line of vision like a lightning-fast blur. It slammed, body and all, right into Satoshi, throwing him backwards against the wall behind him. The figure kept charging, and now that it had Satoshi pinned against the wall, it unleashed the full range of its attacks, delivering punches and kicks and blows in rapid succession, its limbs almost a blur.

Throughout all of this, Satoshi's face never betrayed so much as a single expression, but Dom could only imagine what was going on in that AI's mind. Whatever passed for surprise perhaps? Shock? Fear? A sense of despair? Dominic would never know, only that Satoshi kept trying to defend himself desperately, trying to block off this new assailant's relentless assault, as well as trying to deliver a few blows back of his own.

Dom was simply glued there to the spot, looking on with fear and fascination both as their would-be savior laid the smackdown on Satoshi. This new figure was a man - or rather made to look like one. A man in his middle ages, bald, wearing dark glasses and a black trenchcoat. Who the hell was this guy? Dom turned to look at Ellen; she too was transfixed on the fight (if one could charitably call it that) that was unfolding before them.

And then, with a final heave, the figure in black placed one hand on Satoshi's jaw, the other on his shoulder, and pulled. There was a tearing sound and sparks flying everywhere as Satoshi's head was _ripped_ clean off. The headless body crashed onto the floor, continuing to jerk and convulse.

"Inferior model," sneered the figure, looking eye-to-eye with Satoshi's decapitated head grasped tightly in its right hand. He then turned his attention to look right at Dom.

"Who..." stuttered Dom, "...who are you?"

The mysterious figure calmly addressed him: "if it makes you feel more at ease, you may refer to me by my designation 'Nobunaga'."

"MITA Mk. IV," warned Ellen, evidently recognizing Nobunaga's model right away, "Dom, whatever you do or say next, be careful; it's obvious who sent him and what they want from us."

"I understand your concerns, Directress Kovacs," replied Nobunaga, "however, I assure you that my organization means no harm to either yourself or Director Kobori for the time being. Whether this state of affairs will continue will of course be contingent on your cooperation." He took a quick glanced around him, scanning the immediate area. "I recommend that we continue this discussion in more secure location. Follow me."

 _Do we have a choice?_ , wondered Dominic as he turned to look at Ellen, and she looked back at him, and it was clear at that moment, they both shared the same thought.

* * *

 **Location: Unknown**

Drearily, Dominic opened his eyes. He didn't know where he was, only that last thing he remembered, they'd just left TechNoir and after that everything was blank. He looked around him. It must not have been very long, because he was still wearing the same clothes and they didn't stink too much. He was lying on the floor of a small but brightly-lit room, its walls, floors, and ceiling painted white and impeccably clean. The room was completely blank except for a small band of wall decorations that ran around the room, etched into the wall, that looked like, I dunno, Egyptian hieroglyphs or Nordic runes or something to that effect. Right next to him lay Ellen; like him, she too seemed to have just woken up from whatever coma they'd been put in.

There was a third person in the room, standing, watching them, except that as Dominic slowly got up, he could see it wasn't a person at all, but a skeletal robot, its frame built of polished hyper-alloy, its skull-like face looking vaguely terrifying as it watched the two of them through lifeless, blank, glass lenses where it eyes should have been.

"Who are you?" muttered Dominic, "where's Nobunaga?"

"I _am_ Nobunaga," replied the unit, "now that I have accomplished my mission, I have returned my _exo-dermis_ to storage until such time it is needed again."

"Where are we?" asked Ellen, getting to her feet, "what... what happened?"

"My apologies, but security protocol dictated that the two of you be sedated during the process of entering this secure facility," explained Nobunaga.

"Yeah, and what is this place?" asked Dominic, "are we even still on Earth?"

Just then, Ellen jumped up and down, surprising Dom. "Yes, we are," she explained, "gravity still feels the same."

"I can promise you that this is still Planet Earth," boomed a voice over the intercom. It sounded calm, but natural, with a slight accent, and almost grandfatherly. It continued: "in fact, we are still in the Tokyo area. I'm telling you this because we felt that perhaps if we are to work together, that some modicum of trust be established between us."

"Who are you?" blurted out Dom, surprised.

"It's Kobayashi," muttered Ellen.

"Who? You know this guy?" said Dom, confused.

"Not personally, no," replied Ellen, "Kobayashi - that's what they call him, the leader of the Tokyo chapter of TEC. As far as we know, TEC doesn't have one single leader, at least not that we know of; they're led by a small council. But... our intel suggests that Kobayashi's one of the more prominent among them."

"Ms. Kovacs here is barely scratching the surface," spoke the voice over the intercom, "she is correct, you may refer to me as Kobayashi; it is not my real name, but it is the one I prefer. This division is under my guidance. I know why the two of you are here. I'd like to discuss things with you face to face."

"What do you want with us?" said Dom.

"I suspect you already know what we want," replied the intercom, "at this moment, everything that The Company™ is, its people, its assets, everything it stands for... are all in grave danger. You have the power to change that."

"So why're you helping us?" blurted Dom, "TEC already went behind our back to get your little piece of real estate out in the EE-System reserved. What do you need our help for now?"

"For once, Mr. Kobori, our interests align," explained the voice of Kobayashi, "but... I understand that you, like the rest of this world, come to our humble abode with certain pre-conceived ideas of who and what we are. I wish to show you that you may have... the wrong impression. Kindly step into the elevator." As indicated, the wall in front of them opened up to reveal a glass-walled elevator.

"I do highly recommend that you follow Director Kobayashi's commands," insisted Nobunaga.

Dominic didn't like this one bit, but he knew better than to test Nobunaga's patience, not after what he'd seen at TechNoir. Ellen seemed to share his view. The three of them got inside the elevator; the door closed behind them, and at once it began its descent, deeper into the Earth.

Dominic looked around them. The elevator had emerged out onto a massive underground cavern, except that it was one that must have been artificially excavated and built over. The entire space was covered over with gleaming glass, white tile, and silvery metallic surfaces. The floor of the cavern was landscaped with fountains and a small garden with neatly trimmed grass and pink blossoming cherry trees (though Dom wondered if these plants were real or just plastic mock-ups). The sides of the cavern were built up with various levels, platforms, and rooms branching out from the central cavern, and a dozen footbridges and escalators crisscrossed the space, connecting one level to another.

Throughout all this time, the voice of Kobayashi spoke calmly over the elevator intercom: "welcome to the Technology Energy Conglomeration. TEC is more than a mere place or organization, the people behind it, or the countless marvels we create. TEC is an idea, a symbol, an ideal to strive for."

Dominic rubbed his eyes. The whole scene reminded him vaguely of the Citadel from the _Mass Defect™_ series (yet another proud and lucrative SEAGA-owned property, by the way). And everywhere, robots of every shape and form could be seen moving about, engaged in their tasks. There was a handful of humans there too, intermingling with the 'bots, what looked like a few scientists and engineers - interestingly, they weren't wearing white lab-coats like Dom had expected, but deep crimson instead.

Kobayashi continued: "for far longer than any of you can imagine, TEC has dedicated itself towards transforming humanity, raising us all to a higher level of existence. You and your fellow corporations, you all treat profits as an ends in and of itself. _We_ understand it is merely a means to a far greater ends. Aspiration rather than avarice is what guides our vision."

"Uh... right," muttered Dom; he and Ellen cast a side glance at each other, not exactly convinced.

The elevator came to a halt at one of the platforms, and the door slid open. Nobunaga beckoned them to step out of the elevator, and to follow the glowing glyphs that lit up on the floor. This pathway led them to another pair of doors, these ones adorned with a stylized eye engraved upon them. These doors slid open onto another room, where they found a man waiting for them. He had an unassuming appearance: an older though not quite elderly gentleman, balding but with a short and neatly trimmed beard of greying hair, who looked vaguely Middle-Eastern in ethnicity. He was dressed rather plainly, in glasses, a grey turtleneck, and a crimson lab-coat over it.

Ellen, however, was wide-eyed at the sight of him. "Dr. Speer?"

"Varna Speer, yes, that was a name I went by when I was still human," mused the man. "And that was the form I chose for purposes of meeting others like yourselves. I... take it that you would feel slightly less comfortable in the presence of my _true_ self."

Dominic supposed he did have a point; talking to a robot made to look like a famous dead person was probably _slightly_ less weird than talking to a preserved brain-in-a-jar or whatever other method this Nobel Prize-winning cadaver had used to unnaturally prolong his life behind its usual expiration date. Dr. Varna Speer was revered as one of the greatest pioneers in the field of brain-computer interface (BCI) technology back in the early 21st century; Dominic recognized the name right away, though he would not have recognized the face - Ellen did, but hey, she was probably much more knowledgeable in these things than he was. It was no mystery who he was; but it was a mystery as to what exactly he was doing here, in Japan, using a false name and serving as one of the leaders of this cult of machine-worshipping weirdos.

"Please, have no fear," spoke Dr. Varna aka Kobayashi, "our actions are often misinterpreted by those who don't understand, nor wish to understand."

"I'm sure the colonists of Shaanxi feel differently about that," said Ellen, bitterly, "not to mention the _countless_ human experiments."

"And The Company™ to which you owe your continued existence is any different?" inquired Kobayashi, "I understand your misgivings, but know that TEC only does what we do when necessity calls for it. We never believe in unnecessary killing. Most of those human test subjects you speak of were criminals, terrorists, the homeless and the poor, drug addicts and the disabled, all those who have stood in the path of progress. In their previous lives, these people were naught but a blight upon humanity, their prospects empty, their lives short and meaningless; with us, at least their lives find greater value and purpose, in the new lives we forge for them. As for this other accusation, well, I would question the validity of your sources as to TEC's complicity in the Shaanxi Colonial Uprising."

Ellen was about to say something, but then decided to keep quiet and tactful.

Kobayashi noticed this but continued. "But come, we are not here to dwell upon the past. We are here to preserve the future. We now know for a fact that a high-standing member of your Board is in fact a mole for an organization that both The Company™ and TEC are opposed to. There are other infiltrators too, at least a hundred, ranging from lowly spaceport workers right up to colonial-level administrators. But their identities are unknown to one another, known only to him. As you may have figured out by now, Mr. Kobori, your superior is one of these saboteurs. His questionable handling of SEAGA's affairs over the last year should be proof enough of that. But there are others like him as well, infiltrating every branch and division of The Company™ - including one active operative in the Epsilon Eridani System, one who was smuggled in aboard the _UNSV Belo Horizonte_ and who has been sabotaging EE colonial operations. That disastrous military operation last November? Those firearms developed by this wizard, this "Mr. Saruman"? All thanks to this traitor in your ranks. For now, he or she has remained inactive for the last few months, in light of the more stringent security measures your colonies have been implementing, but who knows when and where this individual will strike again?"

"Yes, I kind of already know all of that," said Ellen.

"You know that because _we_ told you," replied Kobayashi. "We first became aware of such just under a year ago. However, even our capabilities are not infinite, and, to your credit, The Company™ does a respectable job in shielding its sensitive information against our external hacking attempts. We could not verify this without insider information, which, thanks to you, we now have."

"So you used me," said Ellen.

"Well, _you_ used _me_ , so that's not much different..." mused Dominic.

"In a sense, yes," replied Kobayashi, "we knew you would not take our word for it, so we decided to leave you bits and pieces of the truth and let you figure out the rest for yourself. I must compliment your tenacity and resolve; you truly are your mother's offspring. I... wish I could say the same for the _rest_ of your family."

Dominic couldn't help but chuckle at that last statement. They obviously didn't know Fred like he did, went to college with him or anything, but they knew enough. Though he was still confused over just what was it that TEC wanted of them. "So, I'm confused here; what information do we have that you guys want?"

"I believe your boss tried to have you killed after you managed to breach and copy several of his secure files," explained Kobayashi, "I believe you still have these files on that device that Ms. Kovacs equipped you with. And I believe that TEC can provide you the resources you need to crack these files wide open and reveal just where is it Mr. Fukyushitsu hangs his dirty laundry."

"So what do you need with us? Why did you save us?" said Ellen. She turned to look at Nobunaga. "You could have just had your cogboy here just take the data from us and dump us out on the streets."

"Every human life has value, all of us but cogs in the Great Machine," explained Kobayashi, "and we recognize that perhaps the two of you may yet have a special purpose to fulfill. That is why we didn't simply _take_ your data from you even when it was well within our power to do so. We thought it worthwhile to first earn your trust. To put it plainly, The Company™ scratches our back, we scratch yours."

"I'm not sure I quite like the idea of you scratching my back, even if you are famous," remarked Ellen.

"You know, I used to think TEC secretly controlled everything," muttered Dom.

"No, you're mistaking us for the Illuminati," corrected Kobayashi, "we're not them; though we are engaged in a bitter rivalry with them."

"What?" blurted Dominic and Ellen together.

Kobayashi chuckled. "That's a joke. I thought a little levity would go some ways towards easing tensions."

"You're officially crazy, you know that?" said Dominic.

* * *

 **T.E.C. Headquarters**  
 **Olympus Mons, Tharsis Montes Region**  
 **Equatorial Region, Planet Mars**

In stark contrast to the gleaming white hallways and corridors of splendor that TEC showed off to its visitors, the little room where the real power lay was considerably less aesthetically pleasing - dimly-lit, covered in sleek black and charcoal gray surfaces, the shapes all angular and geometric.

"Speak," commanded the Hologram whose form took a red orb hovering at the end of the table, "what have you to report?"

"Affirmative," replied one of the other holograms, its voice now recognizable as an artificially-synthesized rendition of that which once belonged to renowned 21st century Nobel Laureate and ever-faithful servant of the Great Machine, Dr. Varna Speer. It continued: "Mr. Kobori and Ms. Kovacs have acquiesced to my offer of cooperation. Whether this offer lasts or not, for now we are focused on the next task at hand. We will begin deciphering the data encoded shortly."

One of the other Holograms spoke up: "Whilst I wish to congratulate you, I must ask: supposing they rejected our gracious offer? What then?"

"Which is why I took the liberty of having Nobunaga copy the data from Mr. Kobori's MyPhone while they were unconscious," spoke Kobayashi, matter-of-factly, "had they refused, I would have simply thanked them for their time and let them be on their way, and then work on the data on our own."

"I don't like this," sneered yet another hologram, one that took the shape of a sword, "we have the daughter of one of the most dangerous and ruthless individuals in the galaxy at our mercy; had she rejected our offer, there is no reason we could not have detained her, by force if necessary, use her to extort the rest of The Company™ into capitulating to more of our demands the next time we negotiate our further plans for the EE System."

"Look, there isn't a violence-oriented solution to every problem," protested another hologram.

"I agree, there is no reason we can't act like the civilized beings we claim we are," agreed Kobayashi, "in any case, there is no point wasting any further time and effort debating hypotheticals and alternative scenarios that have not come to pass. We have what we need. I will keep the rest of you informed as things go, but rest assured, I am predicting that we will be moving soon enough. Our sources indicate that something major is underway at SEAGA World Headquarters here in Tokyo. And I also predict that now that Mr. Fukyushitsu has been exposed, the other traitors and saboteurs in The Company™ may begin making their move soon enough."


	57. Soulreaver Again

**Darkblade (I)**

Malus could not sleep. He never slept; to sleep would allow Tz'arkan to awaken and reclaim his body for his own. It was a curse he had had to live with for decades now, the terrible price he had to pay ever since he had first dared to seek out the Temple of the Drinker Of Worlds back in his more youthful (and more ignorant) years. To have lived with this unwanted guest this long had been bad enough, but in recent months, for some reason, he could feel the Drinker Of Worlds calling out to him, tempting him to embrace it and let it consume him inside out.

And so tonight, like every night, he endeavored to keep himself awake - first through the consumption of a special potion he had Hauclir prepare for him, and then through rigorous training and sparring, constantly refining and exercising his martial prowess. And then, when that was done, he would take to walking the numerous decks and streets of the _Tower Of Blessed Dread_. Hauclir usually stayed with his master such that he had to be ordered to take leave for the night. In some ways, Malus was deeply envious of Hauclir, or the fact that he could sleep whenever he so chose. On the other hand, he admitted, he was grateful to have a retainer of such... loyalty? It was such a rare and precious thing, that in a world where all were brought up to be kept in their place by fear or force alone, that at least one person was kept in his place by something more.

That night, it was the height of the Witching Hour, and he had heard a dragon landing just moments ago - it was a courser belonging to the long-ranging riders, returning to the _Tower Of Blessed Dread_. The Black Dragons of Naggaroth were the proud progeny of Sulekh, magnificent beasts usually bred for their aggression and strength. Of these, the coursers were those bred more for their stamina and endurance, their ability to fly for days and even weeks on end without resting, though they could still hold their own in a fight against most inferior creatures. They could be distinguished from their brethren by their appearance or, when one wasn't looking, their unique call. That one of them had now arrived meant that a message of great importance had been sent.

Malus made his way to the command tower that his younger co-commander had claimed for herself. He absolutely loathed that upstart creature, a maiden barely seventy years of age and already with the nerve to think herself the superior of any of those of many more years than she. It was a repeated insult for him to have to put up with someone so young, and he knew that at least Ship Master Felheart and several of the other veterans serving in this fleet shared this view. But her position was ordained by the Witch-King himself, and as much as Malus despised to admit it, he had seen her in action now against the Asur, and she was a formidable tactician and warrior both. And if it was true what was being said of the Sky-People, then perhaps it was better she go first to test their resolve before he commit himself to the fray...

Upon entering her chambers, the first room he entered was the atrium. The center of this room was occupied by a large table; upon this table stood a huge map of the world, carved out of polished black granite, little detailing done to render even individual peaks of the most notable mountains throughout the world. At its center, Naggaroth dominated the middle of the map, just east of it Ulthuan, the homeland that would be rightfully theirs once more, perhaps even sooner than they thought.

All over the map, little tiny model ships and sea monsters stood around, showing the true extent of the Dreadfleet's operations at any one time. The ships and beasts of the Druchii were elegantly carved out of shining obsidian; those of everyone else carved of painted wood. One small fleet was returning from the Southlands, their ships full to brimming with fresh slaves. Another small fleet was sailing eastward 'cross the Far Sea to raid the spice-ports of Cathay. One group of ships was seen placed down in Lustria, though they had not been heard of for over a year now and best guess was that they would never be seen nor heard from again.

But by far the largest concentration of models on the map was that which could now be glimpsed just northeast of Ulthuan, ever slowly edging its way closer and closer to its target with every passing day. And standing over the table, carefully surveying the entire layout, Tyr'ale Soulreaver was deep in thought. She barely looked up at all when Malus arrived, though when her retainer Drizzt followed through the door several moments later, she looked up and acknowledged his presence. Malus secretly scowled inside at this impertinence.

"M'lady," spoke Drizzt, "our dragon-dispatch has returned with a message from Ship Master Do'urdan. They entered the Sea Of Claws three days ago."

"Good," she replied. She calmly reached down to the map. It now came to Malus's attention that one of the Druchii pieces was located some distance ahead of the rest of the fleet. She calmly clutched this piece, no doubt representing Lord Do'urdan's forward force, and moved it several inches forward, into the area of the map labeled, in engraved Druhir glyphs, "Sea Of Claws". She turned back to face Drizzt: "did they have any happenings to report?"

"None, only that they encountered several ships of that miserable nation they call Bretonnia."

"And?"

"They sent their ships down to the abyss and their crews up to Khaela Mensha Khaine."

"These 'Bretonnians' are pathetic creatures, even among the Mon'Keigh," sneered Malus, "they are not worthy of the honor of nourishing Khaine himself."

"Now, now Malus," said Tyr'ale, "Khaine takes any offering; it matters not what they were in life, only the manner by which its end came. And knowing Lord Do'urdan, I trust it was sufficient." She turned towards to face Drizzt. "This is good news. If there is nothing else to report, you may retire for the night."

Drizzt bowed, and quickly left before his master changed her mind.

"And you?" asked Malus.

"I require my beauty sleep," replied Tyr'ale, getting up and stretching. "Although if you are interested, a good bedtime story always helps me rest better." With that, she turned and strode off through the double doors at the other end of the hall, that led to her personal bedding chambers. The two spearmen standing guard at either side of the door bowed their heads as she made her way through.

Malus followed her. The two guards were visibly surprised by this, but didn't do anything to stop him, since he was of equal rank to their lady.

Inside the room, Malus found Tyr'ale's quarters to be furnished as any one would expect any Druchi's of sufficient noble birth - that is to say, dark, bleak, upholstered and draped in black (or sometimes very, very dark grey. And purple too. Lots and lots of purple). One wall was "decorated" with Lady Soulreaver's personal collection of arms hanging on it - a dozen different kinds and shapes of sword, including one Executioner's _draich_ with a gleaming blade as long as Tyr'ale herself was tall. There were other weapons too, collected over years of raiding and reaving, including an Imperial Greatsword and a Dwarven Warhammer, and a variety of leather whips. There was also Tyr'ales collection of bows; a longbow and a shortbow both of Druchii make, an Asurian starwood bow, and even one Malus recognized as being of Asrai make, as well as a crossbow, a repeater crossbow, and an Imperial handgun (only Tyr'ale, he figured, would see the value in this cowardly and clumsy Mon'Keigh weapon).

The opposite wall, however, stood in polar contrast to the arms wall. The Soulreaver, it seems, was not just a warrior, but had also taken somewhat of a liking to Asurian art, seeing as this wall was decorated with three large and very colorful paintings, set in exquisitely carved starwood frames - these must have been artworks pillaged during a prior raid. A small gilded statue of a sun dragon stood upon the bedside table. An elegantly carved starwood lyre, inlaid with brass and strung with unicorn gut, sat upon the dresser. Some other items stood in the corner of the room; these had only recently been captured in the prior battle, and Tyr'ale had yet to find a place to hang them which suited her.

Oh, and apart from those, there was also an actual, _living Asur_ there as well. Malus had heard of her; for some reason, Tyr'ale had picked her out of the several dozen prisoners they had taken, and had the rest offered to Khaine. This was now the first time he had the opportunity to see her for himself. She lay there, restrained by the cuffs around her wrists and feet, one attached to each of the four posts at each corner of the bed, the skin around each cuff rubbed raw.

Even after days in Tyr'ale's, ahem, _good care_ , she still emanated an air of nobility and defiance. She was naked, and Malus could see that her skin bore numerous scars and healed wounds and bruises - most of them were from long before, but quite a few of them were more recently-inflicted. Long silver-gold hair reached down to the length of her waist. Most notable of her was her purple eyes - it was not their color that surprised him (purple eyes being common, you see, among those who lived closer to the Chaos Wastes, or around the Inner Sea of Ulthuan), but the fact that they betrayed no sign of despair or terror or anguish, only glared back at them with fierce resilience.

"Yes, she is a brave one," commented Tyr'ale, "her name is Aurelia of the House of Machaerius."

"Machaerius?" asked Malus, "I've never heard of them."

"They're a minor house," explained Tyr'ale, "they claim they can trace their lineage back to the Dragontaimer himself."

"Every house in Caledor claims that," remarked Malus.

"Yes, but not every house can claim the 'honor' of being our guests, now can they?" smiled Tyr'ale. She sat down on the bed beside their "guest", laying a hand on her. Aurelia flinched at Tyr'ale's touch. "Come, my dear," she continued, calmly running her cold hands down Aurelia's bare side. "Here, I don't believe you've met Malus yet. I'm sure he's very interested to hear some of the 'stories' you've been telling me - about home, about dragons, about your service in the Highfleet and so forth."

Malus simply sat down and watched.


	58. Into The Woods I

**Farhoof (I)**

Krarqun Farhoof could _smell_ them even before he could hear them, and they were being pretty loud as it was. _Humans... HUMANS!_ , he thought in his simple mind, grinding his rotten and jagged teeth together in rage. _Miserable manthings!_ He looked around him. The rest of his warherd seemed to share in his rage at the thought of these puny pink cowardly worms encroaching upon their beloved forest with their... _built things_! Their wretched _built things!_

The noise coming through the thick trees was growing louder and louder every minute, a kind of buzzing like an entire swarm of Nurglite bloatflies, accompanied by a deep rumbling, followed by a rhythmic pounding of metal weights upon the ground, and a strange "Beep! Beep! Beep!" wail that was not of this world. He knew not what it was, only that no Child Of Chaos he had ever heard before uttered such grotesque sounds - surely this must be the accursed work of men!

And that's when he saw it, up ahead: a tree, a great ancient oak, began to fall over. The strange noises, growing louder with each passing moment, were now accompanied by the crashing of vegetation, and foliage ripped up from the soil. And then, the next tree began to fall. And then the next one after that. Krarqun roared out in horror and rage at the sight of the forest being uprooted by the arrogance of these men.

And then, the monster behind such wanton destruction emerged in front them; before him was a low, long, and wide block of yellow shiny metal, flashing lights adorning its flat, ugly head, a gaping maw roaring challenge at all who dare stand in its way. Krarqun, however, bellowed his own challenge back in response; he raised his jagged club high, and charged at it, ready to throw himself at the creature's face and tear it apart with his own great strength!

* * *

 **Roadhead, Crimson EquinoX-Salkaten Highway  
Forest Of Shadows,  
Grand Principality Of Ostland, The Empire Of Man,  
Continent of "The Old World", Planet EE-L0**

"Wow, what the fuck just happened?!" exclaimed Engineer Oakhurst as he sat up startled in the driver's seat here in the Badger's driver's cab. Company™ construction equipment was usually fully-automated, but it was still customary to send one or two engineers along to keep an eye on things and fix any breakdowns that occurred.

"Someone's gotten into the shredder intake!" replied Jim, the other engineer, who was sitting in the other seat in the cab, sipping a hot coffee and keeping an eye on the vehicle controls.

Oakhurst got up took a look out of the window. "Oh, yuck!" he grimaced, as he saw the blood and guts that was mixed with the mulched wood and vegetation streaming out of the Badger's refuse outtake. "Ugh, that's just awful!"

"You mean _offal_?" offered Jim. Oakhurst glared at him.

Just then, the lone auto-turret mounted on top of the Badger opened up, firing away into the undergrowth ahead of them. Oakhurst looked ahead and saw the angry natives emerging from the forest, ugly as ever and out for blood.

"Shit! Jim, get us the fuck outta here, NOW!" shouted Oakhurst. Jim didn't need telling a second time; he reached down for the joystick and throttles, brought the Badger to a halt, and then put it into reverse. The massive eighty-foot long, hundred-ton vehicle that was a mash-up of bulldozer, tree-chipper, grader, chainsaw, jackhammer, and steamroller all rolled up into one wasn't exactly the fastest nor most graceful thing on wheels, but at least it could reverse gear in a cinch.

Oakhurst, meanwhile, reached up for the cord above his head, and tugged on it twice in rapid succession, sending two blasts of the Badger's air horns. He picked up the microphone that connected to the radio and loudspeakers: "attention! This is Badger-Three! We've got hostiles in our sector! Calling all security forces!" He looked down. He and Jim weren't exactly dressed for this kind of occasion, dressed in blue utility coveralls and orange safety-vests and hard-hats. A bright little Company™ galaxy logo was stamped on each left breast pocket, basically looking like a little target for all intents and purposes. For security, they carried a holstered Colt M1911 each, but that was hardly much against the wasps' nest of dozens of angry natives they had just kicked. Hopefully, the auto-turret and the reinforced glass windshields would hold up.

* * *

 **Markus (I)**

The road through the forest was straight and wide and even; the Sky-People preferred these types of roads to the narrow, winding, overgrown and muddy rut that formerly ran in its place... mostly because their powered wagons could just run much better on them. But marching along it, Markus Kruber found yet another reason to admire this otherwise mundane work of engineering: in its sheer width and straightness as it plowed forward through the Forest Of Shadows, like a sword through the black heart of the beast, it was more than a mere road: it was an act of defiance, of standing up against the horror that dwelt within these woods. And when it would be complete, it would stand as one more step towards ridding The Empire of the dark blight that festered within its own borders.

Ulric willing, it would still be another three days until they reached Salkaten, but he was not one to complain at all. This marvelous creation of the Sky-People, this "Badger road-cutting machine", that was now trundling forward just in front of them, was able to relentlessly chew its way through even the thickest tree-trunks with contempt, and leave the land upon which it trode as flat and smooth as any road Markus had ever walked or rode in his life. A dirt road, yes, but a marked improvement over the muck and mire and underbrush it replaced. It was a pleasure just to watch this fantastic device, driven forward by its own power and larger than any steam tank he had ever seen, hard at work, not least of all because every ancient tree rendered into naught by woodchips spewed out with reckless abandon out of its rear end (rather like, pardon the crude imagery, a large cow constantly shitting as it grazes its way forward through the pasture), made all the more incredible that it could do this all and still move fast enough that Markus and his platoon were barely keeping up with it.

Captain Markus Kruber was a lifelong soldier of The Empire, the last few years having seen him move from the Grunburg City Watch, to serving in the Grand Army Of Ostland for Count Valmir Raukov. And when His Imperial Majesty had declared a formal friendship pact with the Sky-People, Markus was one of those chosen to be sent to their colony.

Markus and the rest of his platoon were now the first generation of the "Crimson Guard", as they had come to be known (because they were, well, the guards of the Sky-People's great and ever-growing bastion of "Crimson Equinox"). There, they had lived like kings compared to most other State Troops of The Empire, with running water and electric lights and quarters far cleaner than even more noble's stately manors. But such luxury came at the cost of a rigorous training regimen led and overseen by the Sky-People's own warriors, the "Colonial Marines".

Now, he and the rest of his men were out on only their third mission out of the colony's gates, decked out in the first batch of the new uniforms that the Sky-People were putting out in their manufactorum. It was rather bland, he admitted, a tunic and trousers the color of dust ("khaki" they called it), knee-high boots, and an oilskin trench coat for keeping warm and dry. Atop this, he still wore the proud breastplate and pauldrons he had faithfully worn over the years, still bearing numerous scratches and dents from many battles and skirmishes, and adorned with the various seals and sacred charms that invoked the blessings of Ulric (having lived in Ostland so long, Markus came to now consider himself more of the cult of the Wolf God rather than Sigmar). And, of course, in spite of what the Sky-People told him about "hygiene" and "workplace dress code", Markus absolutely would not _dare_ to shave his proud mutton chops!

But as much as he loathed the new uniform, it was all worth it for Ingrid. Yes, Ingrid, his new love in life, who was slung over his shoulder at that moment.

That was when the manless turret atop the Badger suddenly began to open fire into the brush ahead of them. A second later, the Badger ground to a halt and bellowed two blasts of its horns, echoing throughout the forest.

"TO ARMS!" shouted Markus, unslinging Ingrid from his shoulder, "we're under attack!" At once, the rest of the squad snapped to attention and followed his lead, fanning out and clearing the road to get out of the Badger's way as it reversed. Up ahead, he could see the source of the alarm. Thinking quickly, he presented Ingrid, took aim at the nearest hostile he beheld, clicked off the safety, and pulled the trigger. He missed.

Fortunately, while this would have been a death sentence with any Handgun or blunderbuss that he was used to, Ingrid was no such weapon. She, like just about everything else the Sky-People made, was a true marvel of engineering. No sooner had he fired and missed, when the bolt slid back, the used cartridge was spat out, and right away a fresh bullet was ready and waiting to be aimed and loosed upon the foe. She could not fire nearly as fast as some of the Sky-People weapons he had encountered in his time there, but for now, she was far more than enough for a man raised on the black powder Handgun. He fired again, and this time hit the target head-on, the creature's filthy and unclean blood and pieces of bone exploding out of the wound where the bullet had hit it.

There was a loud _clang_ , and the entire clip, now empty, was ejected from the rear of Ingrid. Markus quickly reached into his pouch to retrieve the next clip, at the same time taking care to hold the breech open with the back of his right hand, just as had learnt in training after nearly losing a thumb the first time the bolt had snapped close after reloading it. At least he and several others in the Guard had all shared in that painful experience, but it was also good to be reminded once in a while that Ingrid was quite the feisty little beast even to her own masters, and Markus could not wish for any other weapon in situations as these.


	59. Into The Woods II

**The Corsair Captain (I)**

Ship Master Makabeus Do'urdan had sailed halfway 'round the world, skillfully navigated the treacherous waters of the Sea Of Claws, devoted great care in picking off lone Bretonnian, Norscan, and Imperial ships whilst avoiding their fleets, had now landed upon these shores unnoticed and in a well hidden cove, and spent the better part of the last few days trekking through these infested woods... for what now seemed like no other purpose than to sit here in this tree, like he was some filthy Asrai. But he knew that Lady Soulreaver had been clear in her orders: they were here to observe, and to report back what they could about these strange new peoples that had apparently descended from the sky.

The sight that now met his eyes was astonishing: a massive moving wagon of metal, drawn by no visible beast of burden but propelled by its own internal machinery of some kind, was rumbling through the forest, chewing its way noisily and greedily through the trees that marred its way forward, and leaving behind it a path of destruction large enough to provide quite a decent road for the dozens of men and lesser machinery that followed it. In his time, Lord Do'urdan had fought against The Empire and the Dwarven Kingdoms before, had seen armored wagons that could move themselves, albeit, slowly and usually prone to some flaw in their internal sorcery. Of course. Miserable creatures, of course one could never trust them to create anything as skillfully and beautifully as the Druchii. But all the same, those crude creations, contraptions built of naught but cowardice and desperation by these weaklings, still paled in comparison to the beast he now beheld.

And that was when the Sky-People carved their new road right into the path of a roving band of Ghur'nir and the fighting broke out. Lord Do'urdan knew they were in this area as they had passed dangerously close to them earlier on on their way to this vantage point. Of course, they had gotten through without being seen or smelled; partly thanks to the grace of Khaine that these creatures are as stupid and easy to trick as they are strong, stupid to levels that would make even the Mon'Keigh appear savants by comparison! And this was also partly thanks to the influence of Lady Morinth, the sorceress who had joined their forward band.

"Pathetic creatures!" sneered Maldir, one of the corsairs who had joined him on this mission and now stood crouched down right next to him on this vantage point. "Look, master! Even their great machine flees from a fight just as it begins! They rely on The Empire to do their fighting for them!"

"Those handguns are deadlier than any I've ever seen before," cautioned Do'urdan.

Maldir spat. "The weapons of cowards, the work of weaker races and nothing more! Look, they are so few! Surely whatever ones the Ghur'nir do not finish off shall be ripe pickings for our own taking!"

Maldir did have a point. Yes, now that Lord Do'urdan thought it over, it did seem rather tempting to have the honor of being the first to spill a Sky-Person's blood...

"Very well," he spoke, "gather up the crew. We shall make our move as soon as one side emerges triumphant over the other, only to be severely weakened and unprepared for us. But not sooner."

* * *

 **Airfield  
Colony of Crimson EquinoX  
Grand Principality Of Ostland,  
The Empire, Planet EE-L0**

The first major action they had on this world had shown the importance of building up adequate defenses across all three planets, but the battle they had over at the L4 colony just a few months ago had shown that even with tight preparations, an attack could still come up quite literally out of the ground. To this end, The Company™ had now invested in using the same ground-penetrating radar from their ongoing quarry operation to also keep a constant vigil for any attempts to tunnel into the compound. But most importantly, from now on, a Falcon shuttle would be kept fueled and ready to fly at all times, because in the time it had taken to refuel and prepare the two Falcons kept at Autumn's Frontier for dust-off, Outpost B was almost completely overrun.

So it came as no surprise that within moments of receiving the distress call from the Badger-Three crew, the Marines had already jumped into action.

"Alright, listen up!" barked Sergeant Nasratullah "Tully" Rashid as he hobbled up the open rear ramp of the Falcon. He'd gotten his left leg injured in the last skirmish they had with the natives, and the motorized leg brace he got was sturdy and reliable but not exactly the most graceful. Still, though, he wouldn't be one to miss out on the action, even if it meant being relegated to a less mobile position like gunner. He continued: "looks like our old friends the Beastie Boys are back in town! I was wondering when they'd show up again."

"I thought they all scattered after the last fight," piped up Private Lucy Scott as she plonked down onto one of the Falcon's seats and strapped in.

"Yes, but this isn't a whole herd, fortunately," replied Tully, strutting back and forth through the cabin, "they're few and scattered enough that thermo-scan didn't pick 'em up last time we had one of the Vixens sweep the area, but there's enough of them now that they felt the need to call in the cavalry." He paused as he noticed one more person striding up the Falcon rear ramp right after him. "Well look who it is," he smiled, "been getting tired of babysitting?"

"I haven't left these damn walls in months now," muttered Jan, "figured it would be good to stretch my legs, see what they can do. Hey, at least we're in the same boat together."

"Now hold up there, this is a standard military field prosthetic; I'm not exactly the Six-Million-Credit Man here!" laughed Tully, "but regardless, it's good to have you back onboard, Jan."

"What's this I hear, Private Adamsen's back?" came the voice of Lt. Margaret Wright, seated up in the cockpit, over the intercom. "Why didn't you say so, Tully! Here, I'll put on some music to mark this occasion." As the rear ramp closed and the Falcon began to hover into the air, the loudspeakers began to reverberate with the sound of the Beastie Boys.

"Wow," remarked Jan, "I thought it was your brother who had the thing for 'classical music'."

"Yeah, I got all my bad habits from him," admitted Lt. Wright.

* * *

 ***DATABASE ENTRY:***

 **"BADGER" Road-Cutting Machine**

 **1\. Type: ** Korumatsu ARBM-38 Mk 4 "Badger" Automated Road-Building Device

 **2\. Introduced:** 2081 (Mk 1); 2144 (Mk 4 - current).

 **3\. Producer:** Korumatsu Construction Ltd. (subsidiary of Soni-Yutani Corp.)

 **4\. Length:** 24m / 80ft

 **5\. Mass:** 120 metric tons

 **6\. Engine:** 10k horsepower (7.3mW) Korumatsu K38 Box Reactor

 **7\. Range:** varies based on terrain; up to 32km / 20 miles per standard workday on flat terrain.

 **8\. Crew:** automated; seating for up to 2 people in the driver's cab.

 **9\. Additional Features:**

+Chainsaws, Pneumatic Drills, Buzzsaws, Searchlights, Power Winch, Trailer Hitch, Self-Defense Machine Gun turret (on hostile planets).

 **10\. Notes & History**

Automated road-building devices (ARBDs) come in a variety of shapes and sizes and functions, from the most basic models designed to do little else other than pour out concrete over a pre-prepared steel grid surface (because all new roads are paved from concrete; no new asphalt roads have been built ever since the world's bitumen reserves ran out in the late 21st century and the costs of recycling asphalt from Earth's existing roads remain high compared to how much the costs of concrete engineering have fallen over the last century), to the largest and most complex machines designed to construct an entire highway from scratch, including even the painting and adding road-signs. The Badger is on the far simpler end of this spectrum, because it was designed and built to provide for the most basic needs of new colonies.

The Badger is essentially a mash-up of a bulldozer, a wood-chipper and/or a rock grinder, and a steamroller: it's designed to plow through just about any terrain - forest, grassland, hills, etc. - removing any obstacles and then pounding and flattening the ground beneath it into a usable road surface. It's only a very basic road - unpaved, and as wide as the Badger carving it (6m or 20ft) - but it's meant to be something that can be built quickly and cheaply to achieve road access to remote areas, and is usually only a temporary measure until a proper paved road may be built in future, probably by a more advanced ARBD. At least in this, the Badger excels, able to carve up to 32km / 20 miles of road in one day when operating on flat terrain (much less when operating in hilly or mountainous terrain).

The Badger is essentially a long block-shaped machine that's articulated in two areas to improve its maneuverability in tight areas, dividing the machine into three "sections", almost like a train. The front section is mounted on a set of steel caterpillar tracks; on the front, it has mounted a V-shaped bulldozer blade, headlights, the intake for the tree/rock-shredder, and two pairs of hydraulic-operated arms that can be mounted with chainsaws, buzz-saws, jackhammers, or even industrial-grade plasma cutters for melting/vaporizing any obstacles in the way. Tree trunks (which may contain valuable wood) as well as large rocks (that might clog the internal shredding machinery) are pushed to the side by the v-shaped blade.

The middle section itself can be roughly divided into two halves: the front half rests on three pairs of shredder wheels designed to spin at a different rate that the Badger is driving, and in the opposite direction, in order to cut and tear up the ground. The second half of the middle section rests on a pair of caterpillar treads, but mounts several pairs of high-powered pneumatic hammers which relentlessly pound the earth in rapid succession, applying pressures of up to 20,000 PSI.

The tail section of the Badger consists of two massive rollers that flatten the surface into a road. Scraper bars fitted to both rollers prevent any build-up of material that might have gotten stuck onto the roller, like dirt, mud, roadkill, etc. All in all, one of the strengths of the Badger's design is that the three sections can be uncoupled from each other in order to provide for easier transportation, such as being stowed aboard a Valkyrie shuttle.

The tree/rock shredder portion of the machine spans its entire length from front to rear, and is equipped with diamond-tipped blades for mulching up most matter that gets drawn into the intake at the front of the vehicle. The resultant mulch is ejected from the outtake at the rear of the vehicle; it can either be dumped off on the side of the new road, or dumped onto a trailer (if being driven through a forest area, the mulched vegetation can be collected and used as agricultural fertilizer). The driver's cab is located on top of the tail section, and is protected by reinforced glass windshields to protect the vehicle operators from any debris being flung at them at high velocity, as well as insulated to protect their ears from the noise generated by the machine (which can be _very_ loud, about 110 decibels). Actually, the entire Badger can be fully automated; however, one or two engineers usually ride along with the machine in case there is a problem that needs to be fixed. In the event of an emergency, the engineers can manually override the machine's automated functions.

The initial road is pretty basic and often still pretty rough and uneven, but it is at least wide enough for two lanes of traffic, and is motorable by most utility vehicles commonly employed at offworld colonies, like the Wild Cat or the Kodiak Truck. It is recommended that the Badger be driven back and forth along the new road several more times so that each time, the rollers flatten and smoothen the road a little more, or else that a proper paved road be built soon afterwards.


	60. Into The Woods III

**Markus (II)**

"BACK! BACK, FOUL BEAST!" bellowed Markus as he lashed out at one of the Beastmen who had managed to get too close for comfort. He lunged forward, stabbing at it with the bayonet mounted on the tip of Ingrid. The creature opposing him, one of the Caprigors, bellowed back in rage, but took a step back to dodge the slashing motion from Markus' attack. However, this left an opening in its defense just large enough for Markus to swing his rifle back up, pointing at the beast's head at point-blank range, and squeeze the trigger.

The bullets of the Sky-People produced for these so-called "Em One Gah-Rand" rifles were long and thin and of much smaller caliber than the leaden balls that he was used to; but they were far more accurate and faster too, and with greater speed came far greater power. Not to mention the fact that as long as there were rounds in the clip, the only limitation between firing one shot and the next was how quickly he could pull the trigger. The Sky-People may have been a strange lot with strange customs and who worshipped no god Markus had ever heard of before, but for now, he quietly thanked Ulric that they had introduced him to Ingrid. That, and it didn't hurt that they paid a fine wage and provided barracks accommodations to put most palaces to shame...

He looked around him. The platoon was advancing, slowly, every man spaced out from the other, aiming for individual targets just as they had been shown in training. With new weapons came new tactics; rather than fight in large formations as the armies of The Empire did, the Sky-People fought more as individuals, for such was the power, accuracy, and sheer volume of fire their weapons could produce that for large numbers of men to stand close together in formation against them was to invite disaster - much as the Beastmen had done earlier this day, charging out of the trees in a single mass, presenting a single unbroken line of targets such that even the lesser skilled men in the platoon were able to land several hits each. Once the initial charge had been blunted, the Beastmen's attack seemed to have broken down, and now they were coming at the men one at a time and dispersed.

"Forwards, men!" shouted Markus, encouraging his troops onwards, "we shall reach Salkaten, or die trying!"

There was a _thwump_ sound, and the guardsman nearest him cried out in agony and collapsed to the ground. Markus rushed to his side. It was Private Pieter - he had been a guardsman in the town garrison of Ferlangen before joining the Crimson Guard, and though Markus had never met him prior to coming to Crimson Equinox, he, like the rest of the platoon, had become like a brother to him over these last few months. And right now, he was staring blank-eyed back at him, foaming at the mouth and convulsing wildly, an arrow of some kind protruding from his neck.

Markus knelt down and tried to do his best to help Pieter, but realized just what it was that was afflicting him. The arrow was a crossbow bolt, one too finely crafted and refined to be the work of the Children Of Chaos. Worse, it was clearly poisoned - and done so in a manner to inflict the maximum pain possible upon its victim. No Beastman Markus could think of could have been behind this. This could only mean one thing.

"DARK ELVES!" shouted Markus, rising to his feet, "WE HAVE DARK ELVES!"

The advance had stopped, and the men just stood there, out in the open. There was a clang, and one of the men stumbled backwards but remained on his feet; it looked like this time, the steel cuirass he wore over his Sky-People-issued khaki coat had granted him an armor save from the attack.

And then, out of nowhere, bright flash of light shot out from the trees and struck the ground, throwing up a puff of smoke, and two of the men nearest it began writhing in agony. Markus swore under his breath; he wished he could put down Ingrid and help them, but right now, there was nothing he and the others could do but take cover.

* * *

 **Roadhead, Highway To Salkaten**  
 **Grand Principality Of Ostland, The Empire Of Man**  
 **Continent Of "The Old World", Planet EE-L0**

"We've gotta do something!" stammered Jim as he watched their guard detachment, pushing back against the hostiles just moments ago, suddenly reeling and recoiling.

"Do what?" replied Engineer Oakhurst, "orders were not to leave this cab, under no circumstances!"

"Fine," said Jim. At once, he laid his right hand on the gear-shift, changed gears, and then pushed the joystick forward.

"What're you doing?" asked Oakhurst.

"You said orders were not to leave this cab."

"Yeah, but are you crazy? It's against regs to use the Badger for combat! Too many issues around liability and warranty and insurance coverage and whatnot."

"They can bill me for repairs," blurted Jim. And with that, he gunned the engines forward, reached up, grabbed the cord, and yanked down, blowing a long warning blast to alert their allies and enemies alike who were standing in the Badger's path.

 _ **TTTOOOOOOOTTTT. TTTTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTTT.**_

* * *

 **The Corsair Captain (II)**

Ship Master Do'urdan was confused when he heard the bellow from the yellow giant, and then saw it charge forward. This machine had fled combat in a manner befitting the pathetic Mon'Keigh that had created it and yet now it seemed to have found its courage again. The Empire troops rushed out of the way as it thundered forward, and smashed head-on into the treeline. Do'urdan himself turned and leapt, and not a moment too soon, the great wagon crashed into the tree that had been his vantage point. The enormous spinning blades that adorned the machine's mouth chewed up the base of the tree in an instant, and the tree began to fall.

Like a cat, lithe and deadly, Master Do'urdan landed on all fours. He looked back up; the tree was falling towards him. He rolled to the side, and just a second later, the thick oaken trunk smashed onto the ground with a great crash that shook the earth around it. Do'urdan rose to his feet, and began to run. The Sky-People behemoth was not a particularly fast being, but it was right behind him.

Up ahead, two more Beastmen burst out of the brush, enraged enough to attack and kill anything they could get their hooves upon. Do'urdan was the closest and so of course they came for him. But he was an accomplished Captain of the Dreadfleet, and these pathetic lowly brutes were but pond scum against him! Do'urdan, still running, drew his fine Barbed Blade from its sheath, swung it around in a wide arc, and struck the first one, a Bovigor, in the left thigh with enough force to sever it halfway. The gor's leg crumbled under its own master's weight, and the creature fell to the ground, snarling madly in a frenzy of rage and pain.

Do'urdan then leapt up in the air, somersaulting right above the head of the second Bovigor; it tried to lash at him with its own sword but Do'urdan expertly blocked it. He landed on both feet on the other side of his opponent, turned, and kicked him with enough force as to send him stumbling backwards and tripping over the body of the first gor. Do'urdan did not bother to finish either off, for they were both lying right in the path of the Sky-People's behemoth, and whatever it was doing to the forest around it was probably a sufficient fate to inflict upon these two.

Do'urdan ran off to the side, out of the way of the machine; his Elven double-heart was pounding, and his head throbbed with pain - the roar and droning of the behemoth was pure murder upon his sensitive Elven ears. But above the cacophony, he could just pick out the sounds of a familiar voice calling out to him. He looked up above and saw Maldir there.

Do'urdan scaled the tree, within seconds working his way up to the new branch that Maldir had taken up perch upon.

"You could pass for an Asrai, Master," chuckled Maldir. Do'urdan glared at his subordinate for his crass humor in daring compare him to one of their misguided cousins, but he also had bigger items on his mind. He turned to look back at the great metal monster; by then, it had passed their position and continued to trudge forwards, cutting and crashing ponderously through the forest. The other Druchii hiding in the other trees had turned their full attention towards the machine, loosing their arrows and bolts towards it, though to little avail as these simply bounced ineffectively off of its thick yellow metal hide.

"What now, master?" inquired Maldir.

Do'urdan took a moment to consider this. "Let them advance unopposed," he commanded, "so that they may become isolated from the rest of their pack. Concentrate on the others, leave this one to Morinth."

Just then, above the great din of the machine came a new sound, a roar through the air that almost reminded Do'urdan of a dragon's call. He looked up, struggling to see what it was that had made that sound through the thick foliage above him. There! Was it what he thought it could be? No, it was not. Whatever it was, this engagement had just been taken to new heights.

* * *

 **50m Above Ground...**

"Alright, we're coming up on the drop zone!" came the voice of Lt. Wright over the intercom, "disembarkation in t-minus 20 seconds and counting."

"Affirmative, thanks," replied Sgt. Tully Rashid. He was already standing, and held on firmly onto the handgrip nearest him as the red warning lights flashed and the portside door opened up. He turned to look at the rest of the squad, who were all following suit. "Adamsen, if you're still having last minute doubts, just let us handle it, there's no shame in sitting this one out."

"Don't worry sir, I got this," smiled Pvt. Jan Adamsen, confidently. And then, all of a sudden, he jerked his head backwards, and cried out in pain.

"What the hell was that? You okay, Jan?" remarked Pvt. Scott, who was standing next in line. Tully didn't say anything but agreed with her assessment.

"It's... it's nothing," replied Jan, quickly, rubbing his helmet, "well, but... shit... listen, there's a mage nearby!"

"I think Jan's onto something," muttered Pvt. Scott, looking down at the thaumometer she was holding with her right hand. "Something was showing up on the thaumo just a moment ago, we might have overpassed it."

Tully shook his head. "Adamsen, you're not well. I'm ordering you to..." At that moment, the red lights changed and flashed green, and Jan, rather than wait for him to finish his sentence, and as if propelled by instinct, took a running jump and leapt out through the open portside door of the Falcon, free-falling to the ground below.

"...stand down and sit down," continued Tully, finishing up his sentence. God dammit. He looked around at the rest of the fireteam, all bewildered at this strange behavior. He sighed. "Well, what're you folks waiting for? If Jan dies, it's on us now. Go! Go! Go!"


	61. Into The Woods IV

**Markus (III)**

Most of the first and second platoon had retreated back to the rest of the road convoy that had been coming up behind the Badger. Each of the so-called "Kodiak trucks" was equipped with a turret placement for one of the rapid-firing "machine guns", and a couple of boys had come up running from the convoy, each carrying a satchel full with fresh clips. Markus Kruber's first thought was to order that the trucks be drawn up into a defensive circle, but on second thoughts, the road through the woods was far too narrow to allow this, and it would have taken far too long.

Sir Oakhurst and his squire Jim had bought them valuable time to regroup, but it would be only minutes before the _Dunkelelfen_ resumed their attack. That, and the very reason they had come out here in the first place had been to protect the Badger and its crew whilst they worked the vital road-link to Salkaten, so to let anything happen to them would bring a mark of shame upon the men of the Crimson Guard.

The only way forwards... was to continue pressing forwards, through the woods, and to hope to catch up to the Badger. Markus ran up to the cab of the first Kodiak, and beckoned for the driver to lower the window. The driver, one of the Sky-People, looked terrified out of his mind and did not speak a word of Riekspiel. However, the man sitting next to him understood and explained that a troop of the Sky-People's own warriors, those "Colonial Marines", were on their way aboard one of their "Falcon" flying machines, and would be upon them soon enough.

This was good news, but there was still an angry raiding party out there in the woods to fend off first. Markus took a minute to restock his belt pouch with fresh clips for Ingrid, and then he gathered together ten men, and set off into the woods, a band of hunted determined to be the hunters.

"Fan out," commanded Markus, "follow the Badger tracks but stay in cover. If you see something with long ears and dressed in black, or purple, shoot it."

The Forest Of Shadows covered much of Ostland, and truly lived up to its name. Here, great oaks, maples, larches, and firs reached up to the sky, some hundreds of feet high and all very, _very_ ancient. Rotted logs, clumps of moss, and thick shrubs and bushes filled much of the space between trunks. Not much light filtered through the thick canopy above them, although they were still near enough to the newly carved road that there was much more light than could usually be expected. Dark though they were, the forest was certainly not silent: apart from the crashing and churning of the Badger up ahead, and the clattering away of the convoy's turret weapons, one could also make out the sounds of vicious grunts and braying through the trees, and the clanging of metal against hoof - it appears that they weren't the only ones to have run afoul of the Beastmen.

"Cold One, sir!" piped up Rudhoeff (or "Rudi" as they called him), the guardsmen standing closest to him while the others had fanned out, "Cold One dead ahead!"

Markus looked ahead, and saw it. It was either, depending on how one looked at it, a very large lizard or a very small dragon; it stood up on its two rear legs, though it still kept its torso low to the ground and not upright like a man, counter-balanced by its long tail. It stood, in total, about 15 feet from snout to tail, larger than any horse, and large enough to make the Elven rider upon its back appear smaller than he actually was. At that moment, it and its rider were engaged in battle against a trio of Beastmen who had attempted to corner it. Big mistake.

The Cold One snarled like some vicious overgrown bird-of-prey, and lunged at the first Caprigor assailing it, clasping its jaws around its neck and tearing its head off, sections of spine sticking to the head. Meanwhile, the rider mounted on it, who must have been some kind of noble among the _Dunkelelfen_ , turned about on his waist and slashed his sword at the second Caprigor. The Cold One then turned to face the third attacker, reared up, and raised one of its legs; Markus noticed the gnarly sickle-shaped claw it had on both feet, about a foot long. The creature kicked its attacker in a way that the sickle-claw slashed it across the belly, spilling its innards everywhere.

While this was going on, Markus and Rudi took up firing positions. And then they opened fire. The Cold One shrieked out in pain as two of the bullets found their mark, but it was a large creature with thick scaly hide, and so unless they got in headshots, two rounds alone would not suffice. The beast and its rider furiously turned to face their new attackers, and charged. And then Markus quietly thanked Ulric that these new rifles had such a higher rate-of-fire than his old Handgun. He and Rudi fired round after round, until at last the creature roared out one last time and collapsed onto the ground, rider and all.

The knight was pinned to the ground by the weight of his dead mount, and Markus could also see that one of the bullets had struck him in the abdomen and penetrated his armor. Rudi wasted no time in rushing forward to finish him off with his bayonet.

That was when the second elf dropped down from above, where it had been hiding in the branches. It landed just behind Rudi, and without pause, drove its sword into his back, the sinister blade it wielded seemingly ignoring the old Imperial-issue cuirass. Rudi cried out in surprise and pain, and fell forwards onto the ground.

Markus was horrified, but Imperial training demanded he put aside his camaraderie with his fellow guardsmen in the name of duty. He raised Ingrid, and fired.

But their surprise attacker must have been watching them from above, and had known enough that he had anticipated Markus' shot. By the time he fired, the elf had already leapt to the side out of the path that Ingrid was pointed. The round missed and instead embedding itself in the nearby tree and tearing off some of the bark.

And then came the dreaded _clang_ noise he didn't need now, and Ingrid spat the used clip back out. She was empty, and his opponent seemed to realize this. Before Markus could reach for a fresh clip, he was on him, slashing his barbed blade at him. Markus was just able to block in time; sparks flew everywhere as the Elven blade clanged against Ingrid's bayonet.

The duel between them was short and vicious, but before long it was obvious who was coming out on top. Markus Kruber was a veteran of many years in the armies of His Lordship Count Raukov of the Grand Principality Of Ostland. But his opponent too must have been an experienced veteran raider and reaver, and with the added benefits of the greater sensual acuity and athleticism afforded him by his race, especially in the dark forest like this. Markus was on the defensive for the vast majority of their duel, desperately blocking off each attack he could with Ingrid and gradually tiring himself out whilst his opponent only grew in ferocity and aggressiveness. And that was when Markus noticed that the other elf, the knight, had managed to free himself from under his mount's carcass and was now squatting down, nursing his wound; if he was able to join in the fight, then Markus knew he was finished.

Just then, something landed right in the middle between the three of them. It was a small, black, metallic cylinder. Next thing he knew, there was the brightest flash of light he had ever seen, coupled with the loudest noise he had ever heard, and that was the last thing to go through his mind...

* * *

...for about a few seconds. Markus wasn't quite sure at first whether he was alive or dead. All he could see was an intense burning whiteness. And then, gradually, the whiteness began to dim and the world around him began to slowly resolve itself back into shape, though considerably blurred and with the afterimage of the blinding light still burned into his vision. He shook his head. There was an intense ringing in his ears, and for a moment he was sure he had gone deaf. Still, though, better deaf than dead.

Still dazed, he looked around him. He was on the ground, but still very much alive. Ingrid was right in front of him, where he must have dropped her. In front of him was his opponent, and though he was half-blind and deaf, he could see that whatever happened to him, the elves had taken it far worse. Their superior senses, it seems, was a double-edged sword; both elves lay completely stunned by the intense flash and the bang.

A fourth figure stepped into Markus' limited vision. He squinted, trying to make out the details, but in the darkness of the forest coupled with his own severe vision impediment, all he could make out was that this figure was clad entirely head-to-toe in some dark green armor, and brandishing a boxy Handgun of some kind. But that was all Markus needed to know. The figure strode up to where Markus lay, and held out a hand. Even in his crippled state, he could recognize an ally when he saw one. He grunted, and took his hand.

* * *

 **Elsewhere on the Battlefield...**

Whoever had decided to take the Badger on a joyride in the middle of a battle had also decided to adopt a bit of a zigzag course through the wood rather than a straight line. They were probably trying to deliberately run over as many hostiles as possible, but one couldn't help but entertain the thought that what if they intended to keep the road to Salkaten this way even after the battle. What if one day, many years or even centuries from now, there would be a paved 10-lane highway or even a VacTrain line through this area that would follow the path the Badger had just taken, and perhaps some kind of memorial plaque by the side of the road informing countless future generations of what had happened here on this day that caused the present shape of the road (and their resultant motion sickness).

Maybe. But none of that was Private Jan Adamsen's concern at this moment. All he could focus on right now was the burning pain in his head, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and his fixation on the target in front of him. Even after all these last few months, even after the nice folks over in the science division had tried to explain to him all this stuff about "magic potential of humans" and all that crap, even after all the time he'd spent hanging out with that "Jade Wizard" chap and those other weirdos they had brought in from The Empire... nothing could quite prepare him for what he was feeling now.

The dark forests around him had come alive with sound; he had his helmet audio filters turned off, so he could hear very clearly all the shouting, all the gunshots and shrieks and roars and clanging of swords. These new attackers, these... these... _Druchii_ had bitten off much more than they could swallow, like a pack of wolves attacking the sheep and never expecting the sheepdog to show up - a sheepdog with Mk. 7 Ballistics Armor and air support, that is. But though they had been caught quite by surprise, that didn't mean they would be easily vanquished. No, not at all. Beastmen at least were little more than animalistic humans - dangerous, yes, and heavily mutated by thaumic energy, but dumb as a sack of bricks and their main tactic could usually best be summarized as "Attack! Attack! Attack!". These Dark Elves on the other hand... from what little Jan had seen of them over these last few minutes, seemed to be utilizing guerrilla tactics and playing to the best of their abilities. It vaguely reminded him of Islamic State insurgents only with bows and swords...

...and magic too. Jan knew, could _feel_ it, that there was something else here too - or rather, someone very powerful in the thaumic arts. Someone very dangerous to even a trained and veteran Marine of the UNCDF Colonial Marine Corps. It was up to him to get it before someone else did. Pvt. Scott was carrying the squad's thaumometer, but Jan didn't need it; even when he closed his eyes, he could almost see, or perhaps more accurately feel, the strong but cold and dark presence this individual was giving off.

The motion tracker in his HUD beeped, warning him of movement up ahead that didn't possess an IFF tag. He took cover behind the nearest tree trunk to him, checked his Stacker rifle, and turned back to face whatever it was that had triggered the warning.

Some dozen meters away from him, two large scaly animals were snarling and bounding in his direction, probably drawn by his scent. Jan blinked; they looked like freakin' Velociraptors or something (or at least the scaly, non-feathery, movie version). If that wasn't enough, each of the creatures had a rider mounted on its back that wore, head-to-toe, black spiky armor that looked like something out of some 1980's heavy metal concert that just screamed "look at me, I'm EVUL!". But most of all, Jan could suddenly sense it that these two beings were hellbent right now on nothing more than rending him apart with those wicked swords they were waving about.

So of course Jan's next action was to open fire. Both of the hostile knights must have been not used to the amount of firepower that a single assault rifle could put out; they were probably far more used to fighting Imperial soldiers armed with crossbows or primitive black powder muskets, so the Stacker's effect on them was devastating. Jan aimed low and shot for the raptors first, downing both with a burst of 7.62mm rounds that easily penetrated even their thick scaly hides.

The first rider fell to the ground where his Velociraptor thingy screeched and then died; the second rider continued onwards for a bit further, getting very near to Jan's position, before his raptor finally got the message and dropped dead, depositing its rider almost right at Jan's feet. The rider's helmet had fallen off, and when he looked up, Jan for the first time could see the face of this new enemy very clearly: he looked like a youthful man, like him, only thinner, with ghostly pale skin and elongated ears and eyes that burned with sheer hatred. Jan wasted no time; he kicked the elf in the face, hard as he could. There was a crunch as a Marine standard-issue combat boot made contact with the elf's nose, and he collapsed onto his back, knocked out cold, gushing red blood mixed with mud covering his face.

The other rider had managed to pull himself free from his downed ride, and had stood up to try and rush Jan with his sword; Jan, instinctively, took aim and fired two shots, one at the elf's right arm, the other at his left leg. The rounds penetrated his armor easily; the elf dropped his sword and fell to the ground, crippled.

And then, there was a bright flash that lit up the dark undergrowth of the forest, and a bolt of what looked to be some bizarre purple lightning struck Jan on the chest. Whatever it was ignored his armor completely, and went straight to his head. Jan cried out, his body seized up, he dropped his rifle and fell on his front, convulsing madly. By God, he had never felt pain like this before. The sensation was as if at that moment, a thousand barbed rusty needles were being pushed into every point on his body, including a dozen being pushed into each eyeball.

The source of his agony revealed herself as she stepped out from her hiding place among the foliage, slowly, like a leopard hungrily circling its wounded prey. Jan had never met her nor even heard of her before, and yet there and then, even through the intense burning pain that now clouded his mind and vision, he knew right away who she was: Lady Morinth, a Sorceress of Ghrond who had accompanied Ship Master Makabeus Do'urdan on this raid, whatever those names all meant.

Morinth appeared to look like a middle-aged Human woman, although Jan could sense that like all Elves of her level, was far older than her appearance let on. She was scantily dressed in what could only charitably be described as clothing: a metallic tiara set with a purple gem inset, a metallic bra and forearm-length gauntlets adorned with a row of metal spines running the length of them, and a tight metal girdle with long leather skirt hanging down from it, open at the front. She had long, jet black hair that reached to waist-length, but was braided into several dreadlocks; at that moment, her hair seemed to come alive, each braid flapping wildly back and forth around her head like a nest of snakes springing out of the head of Medusa. And throughout it all, the evil witch with a capital "B" cackled and quivered madly, as if every iota of pain her magic was forcing into Jan's body were making her climax again and again.

Jan lay there on the ground, helpless, writhing back and forth madly. His teeth were grinding against each other so furiously that he thought he would they would break themselves, and his fragile mind drifted in and out of consciousness. Every time the pain reached such intensity that he felt he was about to pass out, something sinister and just pure sadistic in that spell brought him back to full awareness to feel it all over again.

That's when the visions started. Here, he could see a small town by the seaside, an approaching storm out at sea. There, a virgin's blood was being spilt over an altar of ice. Jan cried out as he saw his own armor, clothing, and then skin and flesh melting away to reveal something hard and golden underneath, but then blinked and saw his arm was back again to what it had been before. He closed his eyes, but the visions would not stop.

And then, strangely enough, he found peace. Somewhere in the middle of that hurricane of madness, he had found the eye of the storm, a bizarre calm that defied all explanation or reason. Jan felt like a castaway in his own mind, washed up on the shore of a tiny island, featureless 'cept for a beach of golden gleaming jagged shards and rocks that cut open his feet when he stood upon them, but were a downright _pleasure_ compared to the tumult he had just endured. He closed his eyes again, both in the real world and within his own mind, and tried to focus itself. Now, he could see the entire universe stretched out before him, the stars forming constellations that shown him... everything he could imagine. Here, he could see Kyra reaching out for him on the night he had fallen, her hair billowing in the wind, her face as beautiful and angelic as he could ever remember. There, he could see his own body after that terrible night, broken and shattered, doctors with their faces shrouded in darkness surrounding him, wondering what was to be done about him. There, he could see the faces of everyone, of Brandon and Valten, of Director Django and Doctor Di Stefano too, and many, many others.

When he opened his eyes again, he could see he was back to his senses. He no longer lay on the ground, but now stood on his two feet. And Morinth was still there, facing him, only now she had stopped cackling, and instead her face twisted to show... surprise. Shock, even. Clearly, the idea that someone who was not an accomplished mage or protected by some powerful charm could stand up to the Word Of Pain spell was inconceivable. But there stood Jan, tall and defiant even as he was sure he would go mad with pain.

Morinth growled, and lashed at him with her witch's staff. Jan, instinctively, held up his left hand to block the attack, catching the sharp crack of her staff upon his left gauntlet. Meanwhile, with his right hand, he could have reached behind him for the Stacker he had dropped, but he didn't; no, instead, he reached into the bandolier slung over his left shoulder, and pulled out one of the flashbangs he kept there. He held out his arm, practically waving it in her face, and pulled out the pin.

"Eat this, bitch!" he growled.

The flashbang detonated in Jan's hand. It was not a very big explosion, and Jan trusted in his Mk. 7 Ballistics Armor to shield himself from the worst effects of it. The armored glove and armguards he wore soaked up most of the heat and small shockwave of the blast, and the audio and visual filters installed on his helmet kicked in immediately: the visor darkened enough to reduce the flash to that akin to a regular camera, and the sound was dimmed down enough that it sounded like a firecracker going off next to him. Still loud as hell, but nothing on the level on what the hyper-sensitive elf's ears and eyes had just been subjected to. When the flash subsided, the pain stopped immediately, and Morinth could be seen just laying there, gagging and gasping, like a helpless fish just reeled in out of the water.

Jan planted a well-aimed kick to her head, partly out of spite for her, but also to make sure she really was out of it and not just faking. And then, he knelt down, turned the bitch around onto her front, retrieved a length of grappling cable from his utility pack, and began trussing her ankles and wrists together.

Just then, the motion tracker in his helmet HUD alerted him to a new presence approaching him. This time, however, the IFF tagged it as a friendly.

"Damn," remarked Pvt. Stanislav "Slava" Brovlovski as he emerged from the bushes behind Jan's position, his assault rifle drawn. "What've you got there, Jan? New girlfriend?"

"Flashbang will keep her stunned for a few minutes," muttered Jan, "after that, we'll either need to frag her again, or get her stoned stupid. Call up the medic and see if he's got any TRXY-180 tranqs ready to go."

"How do you know all this?" asked Slava.

"I just do," said Jan. "Now hurry the fuck up and let's get this package over to Cristina's department, I'm sure they'll go apeshit over this."


	62. Battle Report 7

**From** : [REDACTED]  
 **To** : [REDACTED]  
 **Re** : Armed Engagement Against Hostile CHAOS Forces on EE-L0  
 **FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

 **AFTER-ACTION REPORT:  
Skirmish In The Forest Of Shadows***

 _*We are currently trying to find out a better name (IE: shorter, easier to say, more memorable, distinguishable from the other battles we have had here in this area, etc.)_

 **§1. DATE** :

Day 213 After Arrival (May 02, 2155 C.E. in Earth calendar)

 **§2. LOCATION** :

Along the new Crimson EquinoX-Salkaten Highway, Grand Principality Of Ostland, The Empire Of Man, The Old World, Planet EE-L0.

 **§3. PARTICIPANTS:**

+The Company™

+The Empire Of Man

+The United Nations Colonial Defense Force

+Hostile indigenous savages known as "Beastmen" (see **Footnote[1]** )

+Newly encountered hostile indigenous species known as "Dark Elves" (see **Footnote[2]** )

 **§4. OUTCOME:**

Company™ / Imperial / UNCDF Victory: attack on road convoy repulsed; roadwork resumed; intel gathered on "Dark Elf" species.

 **§5. ORDER OF BATTLE:**

 **5.1. The Company™:**

+15 road construction workers

+1 Badger Road-Construction Machine

+4 Kodiak Trucks

 ** _Leaders:_**

+Chief Engineer Lucas Oakhurst

 **5.2. The Empire Of Man:**

+50 Riflemen

 ** _Leaders:_**

+Capt. Markus Kruber

 **5.3. The UNCDF:**

+Fireteam Echo: 9 Colonial Marines

+1 Falcon Gunship

+1 Falcon pilot

 ** _Leaders:_**

+Lt. Margaret Wright

+Sgt. Nasratullah Rashid

 **5.4. Beastmen:**

+Approx. 200

 **5.5. Dark Elf Raiders:**

+At least 40, possibly more.

+At least 5 cavalry units mounted on animals designated "Cold Ones" (see **Footnote[3]** )

+1 Level 5 Mage Unit designated a "Sorceress" (see **Footnote[4]** )

 ** _Leaders:_**

+Capt. Makabeus Do'urdan

+Lady Morinth, Sorceress

 **§6. PRELUDE:**

One of the primary points we had made in the alliance we had signed with His Majesty Emperor Karl Franz was our commitment towards improving The Empire's transportation infrastructure. Longer term (within the next five years) we are planning to construct a network of railways, but for now, at least until the _UNSV Joseph Conrad_ arrives with additional personnel and construction equipment, we have settled on a network of simple dirt roads to connect our colony with several of the most important settlements here in Ostland.

By Day 60, we had completed the road to the nearby city of Ferlangen. By Day 100, we had completed the road to Hasselhund, and then from there onwards to the provincial capital and largest city of Wolfenburg by Day 150. On Day 199, we began work on the highway that would connect our colony with the sea. With a population of about 15,000 people, Salkaten is a small town by our standards, but a larger-sized town by The Empire's standards, and certainly the primary seaport in Ostland, and the second largest seaport in this region after the city of Erengrad in the neighboring Kingdom Of Kislev. For these reasons, we thought to develop Salkaten as our primary seaport.

The region known as the "Forest Of Shadows" dominates much of the northern half of Ostland's territory, and is known to be highly dangerous and inhabited by large numbers of Beastmen. On Day 39, just after we had made landfall on this planet, we were forced to defend our colony as well as our local native allies from a large "warherd" under the leadership of a particular individual identified as "Malagor The Dark Omen" (see **Footnote[5]** ). Fortunately, the demise of Malagor and most of his followers has broken the power of the Beastmen in Ostland, and has caused the survivors to splinter into various smaller tribes and raiding parties, although these small and diffuse groups remain a major threat to human civilization in this region.

Indeed, the continuing danger posed by these literal monsters is one reason that we began on Day 55 construction of the "Lombardi-Saito Wall" to enclose our entire colony (completed by Day 105), as well as the enlistment of a native militia of Imperial soldiers retrained in the use of (relatively) modern weaponry (nicknamed "the Crimson Guard" and numbering 300 troops, in various states of training, by Day 200).

It seems that the Beastmen were not the only entities drawn by our operations. Apparently, a roving band of a new species identified by our native allies as belonging to the "Dark Elf" race also just so happened to be in the area.

 **§7. COURSE OF BATTLE:**

Our road construction crew departed Crimson EquinoX on Day 199, consisting of Badger-3 accompanied by 4 Kodiak supply trucks and a total of 65 accompanying personnel (15 Company™ personnel + 50 local militia for security). We had already scanned the planned route twice with our satellites and a flyover by a patrol drone. At no point did we detect any large concentrations of Beastmen, and although we did detect several smaller and disparate groups, it was intended that these would be easily fended off by the escorts provided to our construction crew, as had occurred several times on our previous Ferlangen, Hasselhund, and Wolfenburg highway projects.

Road construction proceeded without incident until the morning of Day 213. On that day, the convoy ran into one particularly large group of Beastmen that was much larger than anticipated and had not been detected by our previous surveys of the area. We believe that a mix of the thicker vegetation in this area of the Forest Of Shadows may have helped conceal their true numbers, may have made them appear much smaller to our aerial scans. It is also possible that there may be a cave network in this area that some of these Beastmen may have been taking refuge in beforehand, and emerged when drawn by the noise generated by Badger-3.

Either way, the Beastmen charged and attacked the Badger first, possibly mistaking it for some large animal. Not surprisingly, those that charged directly at the front of the machine were immediately sucked into the intake and mulched by the rock crushing / tree-chipping internal machinery of the Badger. The crew were protected by a reinforced glass cockpit and an auto-turret mounted on top of the cab, but otherwise performed as they had been previously instructed to, and retreated to behind the safety of the armed escort who had been marching just behind Badger-3.

Due to the larger-than-anticipated numbers of Beastmen, the convoy also radioed for backup from the colony. Ever since the Battle Of Outpost B over at our Autumn's Frontier colony on Planet EE-L4, we have made it standard policy at all of our colonies in the system to always keep at least one Falcon Gunship fully fueled and ready to scramble at all times (see **Footnote[6]** ). Fireteam Echo was on duty at the time and assembled on the tarmac within minutes of the alarm being sounded. They were joined by Pvt. Jan Adamsen, who had only just recently been cleared to return to active duty following his long and painful recovery after his previous action (see **Footnote[7]** ).

While reinforcements was en route, our road convoy was valiantly defended by the two escorting platoons of the Crimson Guard, under the command of Capt. Markus Kruber, who were able to hold back the attacking Beastmen thanks to the M1 Garand semi-automatic rifles we have been manufacturing over these last few months. However, on the verge of victory and resumption of construction operations, the force of Dark Elves decided to commence their attack. The elves, apparently, must have been concealed and observing the fight against the Beastmen, gauging our forces' strength, and choosing to attack once the Beastmen had exhausted our forces and depleted our ammunition stocks. Furthermore, unlike the Beastmen, they chose to attack from concealed positions and using the forest to provide cover.

The mix of surprise coupled with our own troops' fatigue and dwindling ammunition after having just driven off the Beastmen, and the utilization of at least one Level 5 Mage, meant that the Dark Elves were able to inflict serious casualties on our militia forces. While our personnel had suffered only 4 people wounded against the former, they suffered against the latter a total of 13 deaths (incl. one of our Terran personnel, Jordan Howell, who was struck by a poisoned dart when he left the safety of his Kodiak truck and went into cardiac arrest before the site was declared safe enough for our on-site medic to reach him to apply defibrillation and anti-toxins), and another 16 injured.

With the Falcon still en route and our militia forces on the verge of being overrun, Engineers Lucas Oakhurst and Jim Milbray decided to breach protocol and utilize Badger-3 as an improvised weapon. While we generally disapprove of such practices, we cannot help but agree that it was certainly effective in distracting the new attackers long enough for our militia troops to regroup and restock on fresh ammunition brought up from the trucks. Furthermore, the auto-turret machine guns mounted on all four trucks brought additional firepower to bear on the battlefield. All of this enabled our militia to rally and hold out until Fireteam Echo arrived on the scene.

Upon being informed that they would not be engaging Beastmen after all but rather a new enemy, Sgt. Rashid immediately ordered that his unit change their objectives from search-and-destroy to active capture of as many hostiles as possible. To this end, Fireteam Echo made sure to utilize the limited supply of flashbang grenades they had brought to the maximum effect, as it was determined that _Homo aelfus_ would be much more vulnerable to these weapons due to possessing far more sensitive visual and audio acuity than _Homo sapiens_.

We are not certain as of this time as to the true size of the Dark Elf raiding party, due to the general confusion that prevailed on the battlefield. Quite a few Beastmen that had survived their suicidal charge against our riflemen ended up turning on the Dark Elves, effectively turning this skirmish into a three-way battle. It is possible that as many elves as we have captured or killed, as many or possibly even more have managed to evade us and escape. What we know is that the following elves have been accounted for (either killed or captured):

+39 regular infantry, armed with a variety of swords, spears, and crossbows.

+5 cavalry riders, armed with swords and/or lances and mounted on animals known as "Cold Ones".

+1 "Sorceress", a skilled practical thaumaturgist of at least Level 5 Rank on the Di Stefano-Muysenbergh Scale.

Just prior to their deployment via Fast Rope Insertion/Extraction System (FRIES), Pvt. Jan Adamsen exercised his innate thaumic potential when he sensed the presence of the mage-unit among the hostiles. Deciding to take this matter into his own hands, Adamsen leapt from the Falcon before he could be ordered otherwise, surviving the unassisted descent to the ground thanks to his enhancements. He managed to track down the mage-unit, now identified as an individual by the name of "Morinth", although the latter managed to subdue him through deployment of a powerful thaumic-based attack intended not to kill its target but rather to activate the target's nerve-endings into self-inflicting as much pain as possible in the hopes that this will cause the target to either injure itself, go mad, or even kill itself from the intense agony it suffers (while such an attack is useful for incapacitating an enemy in a non-directly lethal manner, we also question Morinth's logic in wanting to first torture Mr. Adamsen rather than directly kill him if that was indeed within her capabilities to do so).

However, Adamsen was somehow able to resist the debilitating effects of the thaumic spell long enough to get back to his feet, block a melee attack by Morinth, and then detonate a flashbang grenade in her face, severely injuring and incapacitating her. We have... several theories to explain Pvt. Adamsen's resilience, and are in the process of investigating further now that he has returned to our colony. Namely, we are interested in whether it was his cybernetic implants that protected him, his innate thaumic potential, his genetics, or some other previously unknown factor, or perhaps even just sheer luck.

 **§8. CASUALTIES:**

 **8.1. Company™ / Imperial / UNCDF:**

+1 Terran KIA; 3 Terrans WIA.

+12 allied militia KIA; 20 WIA.

 **8.2. Beastmen:**

+Heavy; exact figures are unknown as it is not known how many Beastmen were KIA by the Dark Elves; however, we know that their casualties made up a significant fraction of the entire force.

 **8.3. Dark Elves:**

+25 KIA

+20 POW

 **§9. AFTERMATH:**

I regret to inform you that this incident represents our single greatest casualties we have yet suffered since we began operations in this system, with 1 Terran worker, Mr. Jordan Howell, and 12 of our native militiamen KIA (see **Footnote[8]** ). Much of the casualties can be attributed to the unexpected involvement of the Dark Elves. By the time this skirmish took place, our personnel had already fought off one major incursion and several minor skirmishes by the Beastmen, and had since grown accustomed to their style of fighting. The Dark Elves, on the other hand, were up to now a complete unknown. Capt. Markus Kruber tries to reassure us that the casualties we have taken today would be considered perfectly acceptable by The Empire in most similar engagements against the Dark Elves, but that does little to ease the weight that Mr. Howell's death has laid over all of us here. He is now the third Terran to pass away ever since we began operations here in the Epsilon Eridani System. With your approval, we will contact the Office Of Legal Counsel and the Office Of Workplace Compensation to make appropriate arrangements with the family of Mr. Howell.

All of our sources indicate that these "Dark Elves" are native to the Continent of "Naggaroth" which is located in the Western Hemisphere of this planet, and that while they are an able seafaring race, most of their activity in "The Old World" remains concentrated in the westernmost regions of the continent, namely, the Kingdom Of Bretonnia, the (formerly Imperial) City-State Of Marienburg, the westernmost provinces of The Empire Of Man, and the regions of Estalia and Tilea. Dark Elf incursions this far east, and this far inland, are exceedingly rare, and we have reason to believe that this particular raiding party came here deliberately targeting our operation. Naturally, news of our arrival on this planet will have no doubt have traveled far and wide by now, even on a world with primitive communications, and it is not too difficult to speculate that this particular raiding party may have originally been targeting one of the aforementioned western regions of The Empire before learning of our presence. Whether this represents a single isolated incident, or part of something much larger afoot, remains to be determined by a thorough interrogation of our prisoners.

Nevertheless, this incident also raises a golden opportunity for a more detailed study of the _Homo aelfus_ species. You see, we have yet to marshal the resources necessary for a diplomatic mission to Ulthuan, and while we have made contact with an Elven settlement on Planet EE-L5 known as "Lothlorien", our interactions with them have been largely cordial, and we have been unable to procure a specimen for dissection. Thus far, we have found no Elves on either Planets EE-L4 or L3, although we have since found out that the Human individual being detained/"hosted" at our L4 colony Autumn's Frontier known as "Asset#02 aka Daenerys Targaryen" seems to possess possible Elven traits in her genetics, pointing to possible interbreeding between _H. sapiens_ and _H. aelfus_ at some point in Planet L4's past. However, today's incident has yielded to us an unexpected bounty of Elven cadavers and living specimens for, ahem, advancing our scientific knowledge into the anatomical, physiological, behavioral, and thaumicological characteristics of this fascinating species.

In the meantime, we have recalled Badger-3 back to Crimson EquinoX for repairs from any damage sustained during this battle, and we have since dispatched Badger-4 to take its place. We have also recalled Capt. Kruber and his unit to rest and recover, and are dispatching two fresh platoons to take over. In spite of the great delay caused by this battle, we intend to resume work on the highway by tomorrow (Day 214) and to complete it by Day 218.

 **FOOTNOTES:**

 ***[1] "Beastmen"** : we have already published extensive reports on the hostile indigenous abhuman species we have designated _Homo bestialis_. If you have not already familiarized yourself with our earlier reports, particularly the biological research papers published by our bio-medical division (with great care and effort, mind you), then we recommend that you do so in an expedient manner, as not only are they one of the most common threats encountered on Planet EE-L0, but our studies have also revealed much about the effects that thaumic mutations can have upon organic matter. This knowledge did not come cheaply.

 ***[2] "Dark Elves"** : according to our native allies, the _Homo aelfus_ species found on Planet EE-L0 are generally considered to be organized into three distinct races, these being the "High Elves" indigenous to the Continent Of Ulthuan (also known as "Asur" in the Elven language, Eltharin), the "Dark Elves" (aka "Druchii") that inhabit the Continent Of Naggaroth, and the "Wood Elves" (aka "Asrai") native to the region of Athel Loren on the Continent of "The Old World" (roughly located within the geographic territory claimed by the Kingdom Of Bretonnia). As expressed above, it is our hope that the cadavers and living specimens we acquired during this battle will permit a more detailed study into the biology of this species, so that we can begin more closely understanding the relationship between the _aelfus_ variants found on Planets L0 and L5, as well as any possible relations found on L4 and L3.

 ***[3] "Cold Ones"** : a large, bipedal, terrestrial saurian carnivore that we first encountered at this battle. These reptiles are utilized by the Dark Elves as a kind of cavalry mount. Five specimens were encountered at this skirmish, all killed. Preliminary studies of these specimens show that they grow to about 4.6m (16ft) in length and 1.5m (5ft) tall at the hip. Externally, they seem to bear a close resemblance to older, now scientifically discredited (though persistent in the popular mindset thanks to the popular _Jurassic Universe_ franchise that as of 2155 consists of 17 movies, an anime series, and millions of really shitty fanfictions and is set to be acquired by Dizney) reconstructions of the Late Cretaceous dromaeosaurid therapod dinosaur _Velociraptor mongoliensis_ (which was actually the size of a turkey and had feathers; the larger dromaeosaurid species _Utahraptor ostrommaysorum_ is a far closer approximation to the species we encountered in this particular battle). We have yet to perform a more detailed autopsy on the Cold One specimens, though we suspect that given what we are told of the Cold Ones and their relationship to Planet EE-L0's variant of the _Draco_ species, we may yet have found one of the missing links stipulated by Dr. Mertesacker's theory on the possible evolutionary linkages between theropod dinosaurs and dragons.

 ***[4] "Sorceress"** : the _H. aelfus_ species possess considerably higher thaumic potential than _H. sapiens_ , allowing their various races to produce practical thaumaturgists in both greater quantities (relative to their population size) and of greater power. According to our native allies, however, only females of the Dark Elf race are allowed to practice magic (because, apparently, their head of state Mr. Malekith, who is currently their sole male practitioner of the thaumic arts, is worried about the possibility of being overthrown by another male, though evidently not a female - I guess it makes sense in context). The particular specimen encountered at this battle is believed to be a Level 5 which would make her a highly valuable addition to our collection.

 ***[5] The Battle Of Crimson EquinoX** : please see the full after-action report that we had compiled on this engagement. In summary: within a few days of our arrival on Planet EE-L0, our personnel were already involved in a major action against the hostile indigenous species known as "Beastmen". The actual battle took place about 40km from our colony, and was conducted primarily in the defense of a large contingent of mainly civilians who had been drawn to our colony, mistaking the plasma contrails of our Valkyrie shuttle for some kind of divine omen.

 ***[6] The Battle Of Outpost B** : please see the full after-action report that we had compiled on this engagement. In summary: an unexpected attack on our colony's outpost by hostile Necro-Hominids occurred at a time when both Falcons 3 and 4 stationed on Planet EE-L4 were un-fueled and undergoing routine maintenance checkups. Due to the delay in getting both craft airborne, Outpost B was almost completely overrun and only held out thanks to the determination of the Marines and "White Wolf" mercenaries stationed at the outpost, and to the decisive and effective leadership of Sgt. Nathan Hawthorne.

 ***[7] The First Raid On Isengard** : please see the full after-action report that we had compiled on this engagement. In summary: a failed attempt to capture the rogue wizard Saruman on Planet EE-L5 resulted in the death of Pvt. Felipe Antiguo, and the severe incapacitation of Pvt. Jan Adamsen. Pvt. Adamsen was subsequently transferred from Beautiful Horizon to the larger and more advanced medical facility at Crimson EquinoX, while Pvt. Callum Sanders was transferred from Fireteam Echo to Fireteam Bravo to compensate for the vacancies left by both Pvts. Antiguo and Adamsen.

 ***[8] Although casualties** among our native allies were much higher at the Battle Of Crimson EquinoX, since our allies were not formally working in our employ at the time to the same extent that the "Crimson Guard" is now (that battle occurred before our formal treaty agreement with The Empire), we therefore do not consider losses among Imperial citizens at that battle to be "our losses".

 _ **This report was prepared by [NAMES REDACTED] on [DATE REDACTED]. All information contained within is accurate to the fullest extent of all parties' knowledge. All information contained within this report is considered CLASSIFIED and is not to be disclosed to any others unless first approved by our Censorship Board.**_


	63. Jereon

**Jeroen (I)**

At 6 o'clock sharp, the watchman on duty came 'round to administer the wake-up call, banging loudly on the doors and walls of each room. Jeroen and the dozen other men he shared this room with all awakened at once. He got up in his wooden bunk and at once began dressing himself, pulling on that bright orange "coveralls" with the silvery "safety lines" and stamped with the Sky-People's spiral sigil on the left breast and a number "153" on the right, and then pulling on those "rubber boots" onto his feet. When he was done, he then looked up again at the funny device mounted on the wall above the door, little red lights spelling out the numbers: "0602hr".

This whole concept of time-keeping used to be strange and foreign to Jeroen. Yeah, there was a clocktower in the city square of Wolfenburg, but that was more a curiosity to look at every _Marktag_ (market day) of the week, but otherwise like every other peasant in his village out in the hinterlands, the day's work was timed based on the rise and setting of the sun every day. And then he left the village to go throw in his lot with Luthor Huss - like most people of Ostland, he had been brought up on Ulric, but hearing the inspiring and charismatic prophet preaching, promising a new life and glory and purpose in the crusade against decadence and corruption, combined with the drudgery of his own meager existence, had all inspired him to join the cult. He sold off the modest hovel he had called home, gave up his prior dreams of ever asking Bette who worked the village tavern for her hand in marriage, and gave up everything else he had to the cause of Sigmar, 'cept only for the clothes on his back. And when as foretold the Twin-Tailed Comet did indeed appear, it only reinforced his feeling that his choice was the right one.

And then they met the Sky-People. Jeroen, like everyone else in Luthor's crusade, was shaken to his very core when he first met these strangers, with their strange clothing and strange behavior and downright strange but undeniably mighty devices. Again, like the town clocktower on market day, the idea of a machine, of something built by the hands of man to do something by itself, it was naught more than but a curiosity to someone like him. But the Sky-People... their machines were far larger and more complex than any clocktower, sometimes with abilities that bordered on sorcery. And they had shown their merit when on the day they met the Sky-People, these very same devices were unleashed before Jeroen's own eyes upon the unclean horde of those foul Children Of Chaos that otherwise would have killed every last one of them.

The Sky-People worshipped neither Sigmar nor Ulric, nor Manaan or Taal or Shallya or any of the others. But as far as Jeroen knew, neither did they follow the Ruinous Powers, and everything they were doing and had done thus far was only serving to strengthen The Empire and thus advance the sacred mission of Sigmar. That was good enough for him.

Well, that and the fact that they paid a silver piece a day. And even after all the deductions they made, for "room and board" this, and "worker's compensation fund" that, Jeroen was still making far more than he would have working the fields, and for work that was equally back-breaking, but at least much less in quantity: rather than working all day, every day, from dawn 'til dusk, now, his life and that of all the others like him, was organized around what the Sky-People called "shifts", and he would work only 12 hours every day, with another 8 for sleeping and another 4 for himself to do whatever he liked, especially as all meals and laundry were provided by the Sky-People.

Most of the other men preferred to spend their free time playing (or more accurately _trying_ to play) one of sports that the Sky-People were trying to teach them like those ones they called "rugby" (very popular with the men, and a good release for all that pent-up righteous fervor) or "soccer / football" (which confused him greatly because if you have one sport, does it not make sense to call it by one name? And which one is "football" anyway, the one which is basically rugby but with much less fighting and excitement, or the one where grown men cry like big babies over little things all the time?), or even this one "baseball" (which was discontinued after a couple men had been killed over confusion over the actual purpose of those wooden bludgeons that the game was supposed to be played with). Other men liked to spend their off-duty hours sitting in the common area and watching one of those "moving pictures" that they would put on every day. Jeroen had never had so much free time in his entire life, and so he didn't even know what to do with it before deciding that sometimes just laying down in bed or sitting in those hot water showers was good enough for him.

And they actually *did* get _Festag_ off out of the entire eight-day week - you see, while the clergy had decreed that _Festag_ was supposed to be the week's day of prayer and rest, it was a simple fact of life for people of Jeroen's means that choosing to continue working the fields that day could mean the difference between life and death. Jeroen hoped and prayed that the gods would be as understanding of their subjects' sincere and earnest desire not to starve to death, 'else they would have made faith alone as nourishing as food on the table. Mayhaps 'twas the case that in the Reikland or along the Talabec that the weather was nicer and the soils richer, and then folk like him made enough off the fat o' the land to afford to take _Festag_ off to honor the gods. Maybe. But he'd lived his whole life never traveling beyond the next large town, so he wouldn't know for sure.

At 0630hr, breakfast was served, as it was every morning, at the large "mess hall" that was made of those "mass produced corrugated steel sheets" bolted onto the building's "skeleton" of solid steel beams. Simply sitting there, at the steel table and bench, munching on his morning porridge cooked from oats and cheese (probably brought in on those big "trucks" from the markets in Hasselhund), Jeroen couldn't help but sometimes just sit and stare up and around him, and marvel at the whole place. Everything, from the brilliant, white, flameless lanterns that hung from the ceiling ("electricity" was what they called it), or just the fact that everything from the whole building down to the forks and spoons was made of steel. One o' the other men in his kip, Flick, had been workin' in the Sky-People's steelworks before he'd been re-assigned last month, and he'd told him of all the wonders he'd seen there - all the great forges and vats of molten iron, all the gigantic moulds and other clanking machines at work. When Jeroen stopped to think about it, all the blacksmiths he could think of could not make all the steel in just this one building in a _lifetime_ , and yet here the Sky-People had raised this massive structure and others like it in a matter of mere _weeks_. The small mountains of iron ores and other rocks they were pulling out of the ground every day was staggering, perhaps enough to rival even the Dwarves.

Flick, like Jeroen, had also been a follower of Luthor Huss before he had decided that it was possible to accept the Sky-People's coin and still consider himself a godly man. Three other men in their kip had also been fellow Luthorites; one of them, Jakob, who at this moment was seated three places down from Jeroen, was the most faithful of them all (or, at least, the most outwardly vocal in his beliefs) - he slept with a hammer and rosary nailed over his bed, and he made the sign of The Hammer before every meal and every task. He also helped Father Jorgen lead evening services every _Konistag_ and _Festag_. Jeroen once asked him why did he leave Luthor Huss to come work for the Sky-People, to which Jakob had replied that he felt it was his purpose in life to keep the faith strong and alive here at the colony, and to try and preach the Truth Of Sigmar among the Sky-People and among the Ulric followers who actually made up little over half of all the folk the Sky-People had brought onboard.

Jeroen and Flick were chatting when the end of breakfast was suddenly announced by the great loud voice that boomed over them. It began, addressing them in that weirdly accented Reikspiel dialect they called "German": "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! This is Crimson Radio, the Voice Of Crimson EquinoX. The time is now 0700hr of Day 214 After Arrival, or _Erntzeit_ 15, 2521 of the Imperial Calendar, or May 3, 2155 C.E. in the Earth Calendar. All Shift-1 personnel are instructed to report to their dispatcher by 0715hr for your assigned tasks. Please be kindly reminded that failure to report to your dispatcher and perform your assigned daily tasks in a timely and satisfactory manner may result in sanctions. But first, here are the day's announcements.

"Yesterday, as many of you are all aware by now, our road construction crew building the new highway to Salkaten was ambushed first by the _Tiermenschen_ , as well as a surprise appearance of a force of _Dunkelelfen_. While our brave crew emerged victorious, it is nevertheless with great regret that we announce the untimely deaths of the following individuals in this vicious and unprovoked attack." The voice proceeded to read out the names of each and every man who had fallen yesterday in battle (including, so he noticed, one of the Sky-People), and then called for a minute of silence, as well as announcing a funeral service to be held that afternoon. Jeroen also noticed Jakob taking this moment to utter a short prayer and make the sign of The Hammer out to all the deceased, no matter whether they followed Sigmar or not.

When the announcement was finished, a bell rang, signaling the start of the work-day. A few minutes later, Jeroen and his cell reported to the dispatcher, where they were then given their assignments for the day. A few minutes after that, they were gathered at the colony's motor-pool, the large area where all the great machines of the Sky-People were cleaned and serviced. Jeroen did not like at all the task they had been given today.

A warning alarm sounded, several lights flashed, and the enormous steel gate began to rumble open. And in trudged, like some massive beast, the machine they called "the Badger". Yes, Jeroen and his cell were the unlucky bastards chosen for cleanup duty, and if the rumors going around about just what exactly happened yesterday were true, he most certainly was not looking forward to what came next. At least he had the hose; it was the others who were given the scrapers and mops and buckets of soapy water.

He looked around him nervously. They weren't the only ones gathered here today. There was a squad of guardsmen from the colony's militia present, all standing at attention, fully armed, as if preparing for battle. There were several of the Sky-People there as well, including the stern one in the cold, grey tunic that bore little embellishment of any kind, but all who saw him knew who he was right away and respected his authority.

"Listen up," barked Lord Captain Hans Ulrich Müller, "I don't want to be taking any chances here; if there's a chance any of that stuff could be infectious, we need to know now."

"Thaumo's reading clear, _Mein Herr_ ," replied one of the Sky-People engineers, who at that moment was standing beside the Badger and waving some kind of clicking boxlike device back and forth.

"Okay," muttered the Captain, "but we'll still get a second opinion." He turned to face the man standing next to him. "Herr Byorg, what do you make of this?"

Master Byorg, the Wizard in his long, distinctive flowing robes, stepped up and frowned. "This machine reeks with the foul whiff of the _Tiermenschen_." He wrinkled his nose. "But... as far as I can tell, the Wind Of Ghur no longer blows over this contraption of yours. It is dead... or 'thaumically inactive', as you call it."

The Captain nodded and commanded two engineers to proceed with unbolting the panels on the side of the machine. Within minutes, the panel was opened, revealing the Badger's internal machinery. Next to him, Jakob muttered another prayer quietly to himself, while Flick knelt down and promptly wretched up all the contents of that morning's breakfast. Jeroen couldn't blame him, as he too almost felt the need to empty his belly's contents at the sight that met his eyes. The inside of the mighty machine seemed made up entirely of large metal wheels and cogs and blades, many of them were covered in blood and body parts. Here, a piece of intestine was hanging from one spoke; there, a rather large eyeball the size of a fist lay where it had fallen when the machinery had been turned off. The stench of offal was overpowering.

"Alright, what're you waiting for?" barked the overseer, "chop, chop, we've got our work cut out for us!"

Jeroen tried not to think too much at all as he stepped forward, turned on the hose on full blast, and unleashed a jet of high-pressure water, hoping to wash off the blood and dislodge little pieces of Beastmen from the works before his co-workers had the unpleasant task of scrubbing down each surface to a shiny finish.


	64. Specimen DE21

The room was spotless, well-lit, clinical, almost completely white. The elf's face would have looked beautiful were it not for how ghastly pale and lifeless it was. A long narrow face with striking features, sleek black hair, long pointed ears that made it look vaguely like a younger Leonard Nimoy. Two lifeless eyes, narrow and slitted like a cat's, stared out ahead into nothingness.

A small buzz-saw hovered over the face. "Alright," spoke the voice of the person holding it, "let's see if there's anything that didn't show up on the scans, shall we?"

The buzz-saw began to whirr. It was then pressed right into the forehead of the elf, slicing away skin, flesh, blood, before beginning the hard work of cutting cleanly around the _os frontale_ and the _os parietale_ so that the top of the skull could be removed, enabling access to the subject's brain within...

* * *

 **Bio-Medical Center**  
 **Colony of Crimson EquinoX**  
 **Grand Principality Of Ostland, The Empire Of Man**  
 **Continent Of "The Old World", Planet EE-L0**

Abigail Flanagan had quite literally just gotten off the Valkyrie and was already being called back to duty at the bio-medical center. An automated golf-cart was waiting for her at the edge of the tarmac, along with instructions to just leave her duffel bag there, that someone would take it to her quarters later on. Several minutes later, Abi strode in through the staff entrance, flashed her ID badge to gain access, and even after then still took another quarter-hour to go through decontamination, including a shower, take off her traveling clothes, and then put on a fresh set of clothing, shoes, and lab-coat prepared for her. And only after all that was she cleared to enter the bio-medical center. It was probably also a good thing that she had the two-day Valk flight in from L5 to detox and sleep it off after everything they had been smoking, 'else she probably wouldn't have cleared the breathalyzer!

"Hey Abi! Good weekend, I trust?" asked Dr. Petra Muysenbergh, looking up from her computer as Abi entered the central lab.

Abi smiled. "Oh, it was wonderful! I really do think L5 is the most beautiful world in the whole system."

"I'm sure it was," mused Petra, "I guess that's why they're planning to settle most colonists there. So, how is everyone?"

"Great," she replied as she made her way to the espresso machine on the counter. "For the most part. The whole refugee situation they have there is... it's awful. Seeing it for yourself..." She sighed. "But I guess that only meant we really needed that weekend off more than ever. Dino is glad that his he and his dad finally managed to get out of the colony and see the world. They send their regards. Max is going to try and see if he can smooth-talk his way onto L3 next."

"Good luck to him," remarked Petra, "and... the others?"

"It was exactly what Miri and I needed," smiled Abi, dreamily. "I dunno when's the next time I'll be able to find some time off, but we were thinking we might do L4 next."

"Now c'mon, would you really entrust the future of your relationship in the fine hosting skills of _Fred_?" teased Petra.

"Ooh, good point! Still, though, it'd be nice to visit Niall."

"You heard about him and Kelly?"

"Of course!" replied Abi, taking her freshly brewed espresso and taking a seat at her workstation. "I'm glad it's not just a one-off thing. I honestly can't think of any two folks more suited for each other. And we are a long way from Earth as it is." She sighed, took a sip of her coffee, and then took a quick glance around the place. "So... where is everyone?"

"Right, so, you heard what just happened, right?"

"Yeah, I read the reports on the flight over. So, we're already dealing with L-Zero's variant of the elves? That's sooner than I thought."

Petra nodded. "At least one of them, yes. That's where the rest of our department is right now - down in the basement, where we're keeping the dead ones in storage. They're dissecting a couple of them right now. The results look... interesting." She cast a side glance at her desktop monitor. "I'm working on the report right now; they're sending me live updates as we speak."

"Ah-uh..." replied Abi, "so, what are we gonna do with all these elves when we're done with them? Auction them off to some billionaire from, I dunno, Hong Kong or Singapore for use in 'traditional Chinese medicine'? Where's Cristina, by the way?"

"She's busy with Jan right now."

"Oh. Is this about...?"

"Yes. She's been interrogating him once every day, for the last few days since the episode - trying to get to the bottom of _it_."

"And what do we think _it_ is?"

Petra shrugged. "We don't know for sure just yet. Personally, I think it's just the cybernetics we installed, but you know Cristi by now; she wants to be absolutely sure it's not something _else_ at work."

"I'm starting to feel sorry for poor Jan," muttered Abi, looking down at her espresso. First, that fall off the tower last year. It took them weeks to untangle what a mess he'd made of himself, and it wasn't pleasant at all. Coming to terms with the replacement parts they'd given him, together with the bombshell they'd dropped about discovering about his innate special power and what it meant for the future of humankind (not to mention raising the question of whether it was a coincidence, or if "magic" had indeed been more active on Earth in the past and that the genetics of those ancient mages could possibly still be around today...). "So where does that leave us?"

"Now that you're back, Cristi wants you assigned on the special duty." Petra stood up and strode over to one of the thick steel doors at the back of the room. She then took out her ID card and swiped it over the card reader. The door opened automatically, and the temperature in the room suddenly dropped. She beckoned her inside. "We're keeping the live specimens up here."

For now, the ones they'd captured were being kept in cryogenic storage, for which purposes they'd brought in several cryo-pods from the _Horizonte_. They just thought it was safer that way. Honestly, this was the first time The Company™ had ever tried to hold captured elves in custody (and the best advice their Imperial allies could give was "kill them _all_ right now!"), and it was Captain Müller's stern orders that no chances be taken for the safety of both the colony and the prisoners themselves. Flashbangs worked for stunning them but they would recover eventually, and they had tried several different cocktails of various drugs to keep them all suppressed which was discontinued after a couple of them had suffered adverse reactions to the TRXY-180 formula used and had gone into anaphylactic shock except much more severe than usual due to how elves apparently feel the same things humans do but ten times more intensely.

And, of course, the most valuable specimen, the one called "Morinth" according to Jan, had to be kept in cold storage because of just how dangerous she was, if what she did to Jan with just the power of her mind alone was any indication - how Jan had survived and overcome it at all was a mystery for which he now paid the price in daily counseling sessions with Cristina (which, if Abi were to hazard a guess, were probably even _more_ torturous than whatever magic spell he'd overcome!).

Kept there in stasis, looking dead but in fact very much alive, Specimen DE21 was a fascinating sight to behold; Abi even felt a slight chill, though that was probably from the cold emanating from the cryo unit.

"We'll need to take extra precautions when we open her up," cautioned Petra, "even if we keep DE21 unconscious after thawing out, there's not telling just yet if thaumic functions remain active."

"Okay," replied Abi, "so when do we start?"

* * *

 **Soulreaver (II)**

The waves broke and pounded against the shore, brine and salt washing over untold billions of jagged little stones and pebbles that made up the beach. Above, the sky had turned dark with the heavy clouds gathering above. Somewhere out at sea, a bolt of lightning arced across the sky, and thunder rumbled, but the storm had yet to make landfall.

The stones on the beach were disturbed as something moved among them. A pair of slick leather boots stalked the shoreline with purposeful grimace. Tyr'ale Soulreaver most certainly was _not_ pleased at this moment.

And then, seconds later, something very large followed right behind her, massive foot-long talons digging into the ground, an enormous scaly tail whipping back and forth. Firaxes, like most dragons, was a beast of great and terrible splendor to behold in the sky, but on the ground, his movement was rather more ponderous and ungainly, rather like a gigantic scaly bat or else some leathery-skinned giant flyer from some age long past when the very world itself was young and primordial. But regardless of what his predisposition towards the ground may have been, Firaxes trudged along the beach eagerly, especially as by now, whether through smell or touch or some deeper psychic bond with his master, he could sense her displeasure at that moment, and that usually meant there would be blood spilt that day.

Ahead of them, a dozen or so other Druchii were all standing along the beach, facing towards them. They each looked beleaguered and severely battered and rather not too eager about what they could now see approaching them.

"Well?" seethed Tyr'ale as she came to a halt right in front of the group. Firaxes, loyal to his master to a fault, halted as well, though by then, his great wingspan and height dominated the field-of-view of the defeated dozen. She continued: "Who is in charge here?"

One of the group stepped forward, nervously. "M-m-m-m'lady," he began.

"And you are...?" snapped Tyr'ale.

"M-m-Maldir," stuttered the warrior. He hung his head low, half bowing to his superior and half out of shame. "I... I..."

"You are a retainer to Lord Do'urdan," said Tyr'ale, cutting him off, "yes, I read his dispatches, know everyone on the crew, and know that some five-score of you left the ship safely hidden away and set out into the Forest Of Shadows. Now I see less than twenty gathered before me."

When no further responses were forthcoming, she continued: "Your orders were to observe the Sky-People, bring back valuable information on their strengths and weaknesses, and then, when the time is right, rejoin the rest of the Dreadfleet for our grand assault on their fortress and teach them a lesson for their arrogance. Instead, I've lost most of your crew, including an accomplished Sorceress."

Maldir protested. "M'lady! We'd waited until the Beastmen had exhausted them! We simply could not have foreseen the reinforcements they brought up with that flying ship of theirs!"

"Flying ship?"

"Yes, you must believe us! It flew and roared like a dragon made of metal and..."

"I'll show you a real dragon," snapped Tyr'ale, cutting him off. As if on command, Firaxes snarled, and lunged forward. The beast's maw flashed a mouthful of wicked knife-sized teeth and a cruel forked tongue the size of one's arm, and snapped shut... just a few feet away from Maldir's face. Maldir stumbled backwards onto the ground, a growing wet patch visibly sprouting forth from his loins.

Firaxes continued to stare down Maldir and the others furiously, whilst the Soulreaver paced back and forth, fuming. "I have no doubt that those with whom lies the fault for this serious set-back now lay either dead, or captive in the grubby little arms of the Mon'Keigh - in which case, perhaps a fate even worse than death. They have already paid dearly for their failure; I see no reason to waste any more." She paused. "I will be forgiving this once. Do not count on my mercy a third time."

And with that, she turned and remounted Firaxes, quite quickly too thanks to her experience. If she was being entirely honest, even she would have been hard-pressed to prepare for a battle of the kind Maldir had described, let alone prevail in it. A new strategy was sorely needed, though at the very least what information they had brought could make the defining difference in the battles to come...


	65. From Ashes

**Main Command HQ  
Colony Of Beautiful Horizon  
West Coast of "Enedwaith"  
Continent of "Middle Earth", Planet EE-L5**

After the brief but wonderful long-weekend, it was time to come back to reality. Miranda Riversong sighed as she stood up from her desk, holotablet under one arm, and the other hand clutching a cup of freshly brewed espresso, with extra cream and sugar as if that somehow was going to sweeten not just the coffee but also the grim task before her. It was now Thursday morning of the short-week and already the weekend seemed like a distant memory, thanks to the sheer hassle Tuesday and Wednesday had been.

Even Dino didn't seem to have any time for her. Granted, he was the head of the Finance & Accounting Dept. at Beautiful Horizon, so his cubicle was on the other side of the building (and not to mention this whole Isengard situation had taken a royal bite out of the budget, and even if The Board had approved all the major budgetary requisitions they had made for addressing the ongoing crisis, it was still a helluva lot of paperwork to go through). Even then, he used to have time to stop by and say hi every other day, or at the very least drop a message over the Spacebook. These days, even that didn't seem much of an option now that use of social media had been cut down _severely_ as The Company™ didn't want anyone leaking details about the whole situation out. Though kudos to his dad, ever since they got back, Max had decided to volunteer his time helping out with the refugee situation. Maxwell Smith had paid several million Credits for a seat aboard the _Horizonte_ to come out here in the first place, and now he was spending what should have been his retirement vacation instead helping out with the victims they had rescued from the pits. In times like these, it felt good to be reminded that for all the complete monsters out there, there were also people like him in this world.

Miranda exited the main headquarters and took a seat on the electric golf-cart waiting just outside with three other staff members. A few minutes later, they were at the colony's airfield, where Falcon02 was being prepped for dust-off, laden with additional supplies and a crew of five Terrans and fifteen native laborers who were being rotated with some of the staff already out there. Just a few minutes more and the Falcon was in the air, jetting off towards the Misty Mountains to the northeast.

No sooner had the Battle Of Isengard ended when there had already been huge debate about what exactly was to be done next. Everyone was appalled when the true extent of Saruman's activities had been revealed, and everyone agreed there was absolutely no question they had to do something. What there had been passionate disagreements about was just what exactly could or should be done. In total, they had pulled some 1,500 victims up from those hellish depths. In addition to that, at least 300 Dunlending men had surrendered or been captured after the battle.

Surprisingly, most of the Orcs and hybrid Uruks had fled rather than surrender - such must have been the influence that the wizard had exercised over them before he died. There were rumors going about that some of them had surrendered and been brought into custody, but that they'd since disappeared. Miranda was ashamed to admit it, but she was secretly glad that no more of these filthy rapist monsters had survived - keeping them alive would have diverted precious resources away from the women who needed them, and no matter which way you look at it, all of them deserved to die for what they had done.

Basically, this one battle alone had effectively tripled the number of people The Company™ was now responsible for here on L5. Miranda herself and many of her co-workers were sternly on the "fuck costs, let's do everything we can for them and worry about the bill later" camp. But she could also understand where Teller and the others were coming from. Just the fuel and maintenance bills alone that they were now racking up with several shuttle flights daily would have put them solidly in the red for this month if not for the emergency funds that Teller had gotten approved. Yes, even with the UN, Rohan, and now the Elves too all chipping in (which was what was keeping Dino busy, keeping tabs on what contributions were coming from The Company™, which from the UN, and what contributions were the natives making), it was clear that Beautiful Horizon was going to be the big "sunk cost" for The Company™ here in the system for the next few months, at least until the colonists coming aboard the _Conrad_ finally arrived.

But you know what? Fuck it. They need our help. And as long as The Company™ has the resources to help them, we should. Because in the end, we're all part of the same struggle that now, the more she thought about it, was no longer about politics or business or good PR anymore. No, this had become a straight up fight of _good against evil_. That was how The Company™ had always tried to paint it in the news media back home, but now she genuinely felt and believed it to be true. Yes, their commitments here could set them back by months, but that was little compared to knowing that years from now, she would look back on this moment and know that it was the right thing to do.

Isengard was located about 500km up the Isen River from Beautiful Horizon, but the flight took just twenty minutes. With the Valk out on a supply run to L-Zero, it fell to Falcons 01 and 02 to move all the people and materiel around. There were now at least three shuttle flights daily between Beautiful Horizon and Isengard, and Miranda would be taking the last one tonight back to the colony.

Up ahead, she could see the Tower Of Orthanc, a gleaming spire set serenely against the mountains behind it, deceptively concealing the atrocities that had taken place beneath for years. And as they drew closer and the Falcon slowed down for landing, she could get a clearer look at the grounds around the tower. Within those concentric walls, Isengard had been transformed into a refugee camp, except it was none like she'd ever seen before. There were the rows and rows of drab but clean UN and Company™-provided tents. North of them, the Elves had set up their own campsite, except that it was completely different: a variety of tents in different shapes and colors and sizes, but all sharing the same elegance and great care in the delicate manner that each had been erected, like there was a certain _feng shui_ to arranging them to look dainty and picturesque even against the blackened and sooty ground of Isengard. The cavalry of Rohan had also arrived now; their tents were pitched and their horses hitched all along the southern end of the grounds, the rough but sturdy leather shapes in sharp contrast to the Elven camp. There was one encouraging change since yesterday to see: the White Hand flags of Saruman that had previously hung throughout the entire place had now all been cut down; in their place now fluttered the green-and-white horse banners of the Kingdom Of Rohan, proudly reclaiming what had once been rightfully theirs.

Falcon02 touched down on the ground just south of the wall; the engines powered down, the doors slid open, and Miranda and everyone disembarked quickly but orderly. They were greeted and saluted by Captain Damborn, one of their native militiamen, who then proceeded to lead them back towards the open gates. Of the hundred militia they had recruited and trained, half were now stationed here, assigned either on guard duty, or else patrolling the surrounding foothills to clear out any roving Orcs or Goblins still out there. The occasional distant rifle shot heard every now and then, echoing across Nan Curunir, was an unpleasant reminder that hostiles still lurked out in these parts, though thankfully these seemed isolated encounters rather than any serious attempts by those monsters to rally and retake their castle.

Some ways outside the southern gatehouse, Miranda noticed, a large pyre was burning. Several of the militiamen, along with several Rohanian warriors assisting them, were hard at work dragging over dead Orcs and Uruks and throwing them into flames, with extreme prejudice. The pyre had been kept stoked and burning almost continuously for several days now, the smoke and smell rising from it thick and acrid, but this was the best way available for getting rid of the masses of dead, of cutting down on the risk of disease and (in a way, so she supposed) cleansing their evil from the face of this world. There was something oddly satisfying in seeing one of the Rohanian warriors throwing a White Hand banner into the fire, in watching one of the last vestiges of the White Wizard's would-be empire turn to ash and cinders.

If the camp made for a sublime sight from the air, entering the gates and seeing it now close-up was a truly humbling experience, even if this wasn't the first time she had come here. With each passing day, the hard work that The Company™ doctors and Elven healers was starting to show. Those among the victims who were able to stand also did their part in helping nurse their comrades, those with whom they had lived through that ordeal.

Miranda's travel companions dispersed to their separate assignments, but she headed straight for the large tent at the center of camp that served as their mess hall and meeting place both. Both Teller and Cheong were staying at the colony today, so they had delegated to her the important responsibility of today's round of talks. Two of their militiamen were standing guard outside the tent, as were a half-dozen Rohirrim, meaning that the King's party were already inside and waiting.

"Lady Miranda Of The Riversong," addressed King Théodred, "It is a pleasure to meet you after all that Lord Jonathan has spoken so highly of you."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," replied Miranda, bowing respectfully. She looked and saw there were two others joining their king, whom she recognized from the dossiers she'd been given; Éomer and Éowyn, the King's cousins, though they were more like brother and sister to him in a way. Likewise, she bowed and introduced herself to them.

"Miranda... it is a lovely name," remarked Éowyn, "I'm certain I've heard it before though I can't quite place it."

"Where is Mr. Gandalf?" asked Miranda, looking around, "I thought he would be joining us today."

"He left last night for Minas Tirith, not long after your last Falcon-ship took flight," replied Éomer.

Miranda frowned. "Left? Why?"

"Last we saw of him, he said he was going into the former White Wizard's study," explained Théodred, "he said he wanted to investigate something though what exactly he did not say. And then as I was retiring for the evening, my man on duty came and informed me that he had taken that great white steed of his and left."

Miranda was mildly annoyed. Not that he was their prisoner or anything, but he could have at least told them he had to go, and then they could have offered him a lift on the next shuttle there, probably in a few days' time. In the mean time, they could really have used his talents here; the Wizard had truly made a big difference here, she felt, he did have a way with easing the torment of people. Now he was going to be wasting several days of his time on horseback, several days he could have continued helping them here.

Still, no point in delaying the meeting any further. She cleared her throat and addressed everyone: "Ladies and gentlemen, Your Majesty: our primary objective was to ensure the preservation of the Kingdom Of Rohan as a stable and secure political entity and as an ally to Gondor. Saruman now lays dead and his armies decimated. We have reports and sightings of scattered remnants in the hills but that's it."

"Haldir mentioned that the Ents and the Huorns might take care of the rest," added Éowyn.

Miranda had heard of these "Ents" brought up before, but continued nonetheless: "Your Majesty, all things considered, your kingdom's western frontier is secure, and the bulk of your forces are now free to focus on the threat from the east."

"I suspect that Gondor will be expecting us to repay the favor soon enough," remarked Éomer.

"Probably," agreed Miranda, "but that still leaves us the issue of what must be done here. Our next priority must be to ensure the longterm safety and well-being of each and every one here." She consulted her notes on her tablet. By now, the Rohanians must have gotten somewhat accustomed to their "techno-sorcery", though they still eyed the device with great curiosity. She continued: "I believe it was agreed yesterday with Mr. Teller that those wishing and able to return to Rohan will travel with your majesty when you return to Edoras."

The King nodded. Miranda made a note on her tablet and then continued: "today, we're going to decide what we're going to do about the rest. Now, by Mr. Teller's estimates, we are prepared to take in up to 300 people at our colony..." She quietly winced inside as she read out Teller's instructions; if it were up to her, they would take _everyone_. But Teller had been clear that they deliberately start low and see if they could convince the royal delegation to take more, especially seeing how much empty space the Kingdom had. It just didn't feel right haggling over the lives of human beings, but then again, Miranda did work for The Company™.

"Lady Miranda, if I may," offered Eowyn, "In the old days, Isengard was once the proud western guardian of our Kingdom, before my great ancestor King Fréaláf entrusted the keys to the possession of the late White Wizard. With your blessing, we hope to make it so again. We wish to resettle this land in the name of the House Of Eorl, to once more cultivate the Nan Curunir, and to establish this place as a trading post."

She had a good point: Isengard was named so because it sat at the headwaters of the Isen River, which eventually wound its way down to the sea right by Beautiful Horizon. Enedwaith was largely unpopulated and The Company™ intended to claim it all for their colonization plans, which would make the Gap Of Rohan a vital trade hub. Teller had recognized Isengard's future value, but also recognized that keeping it for The Company™ was untenable at this time, and that the diplomatic brownie points they'd score giving it back to Rohan were far more valuable right now.

"As you have rightly said, many of our people here have no homes to return to," continued Éowyn, "their lands and holdings all destroyed in the very raids that took them. Perhaps here, with your help, we may restore some semblance of what has been lost."

"And what of the _Dunlendings_?" inquired Éomer. "There are several hundred of them here; the sooner we are rid of them the better."

Miranda was surprised. "We can't simply return them to their tribes, now that Dunland is falling into complete chaos and infighting. Teller's instructions are that we can host 300 more people, total, but we'll need to settle the rest here."

"Settle them _here_?" responded Éomer, incredulously. "My Lady, I'm afraid you're mistaken. The Wildmen of Dunland are traitorous, ill-begotten savages who have terrorized our realm since its birth, and now you mean to keep them here with open arms?"

"They're human beings too," she replied, annoyed, "please explain to me what are you worried about exactly? That there might be terrorists or Saruman-followers still hiding amongst them? The Wizard's dead, and with him, whatever power he had over them."

"Lady Miranda," insisted Éomer, gritting his teeth, "you do not understand these people like I do. They are ill-blooded mongrels who will turn against their rightful king at every opportunity. It was our great ancestor, King Brego, who first cleansed the Riddermark of this menace, and I honor that by continuing to fight them, as I have my entire life!"

"You've fought Dunland _men_ ," corrected Miranda, "these are Dunland _women_. How many of these have you ever fought? We have no records of violent incidences with anyone here, Rohanian or Dunlending. You've been here a few days. Have any of them looked fit to wield a sword? Like they were just itching to pick a fight with you?"

"Dear brother, please, she has a point," interjected Éowyn. "They have been as much victims of Saruman's treachery as our own. They were betrayed by their own husbands, sold out to the White Wizard, made to bear unspeakable acts thrust upon them. Have they not had their share in the suffering?"

The King himself had been silent until now, such that Miranda had almost forgotten he was there. Maybe he didn't know what to say in this brewing controversy, or maybe he was waiting to hear both sides first. Either way, that was when he finally put in his two cents. "After everything they have endured together in those pits, they are hard to tell apart from our own," admitted Theodred. "Éomer, cousin. Brother. Listen: I too have fought them by your side all these years. But I have also seen what has become of them here, even spoken with a few of them. Some of them are indeed of our own blood, for they are the children of those taken from our lands in raids long past."

"My brother, my king," replied Éomer, respectfully, "forgive me, but I just cannot, in good faith, allow these barbarians to remain on our soil."

"Listen," continued Théodred, "Lady Miranda is correct. If we send them away now, sick and defenseless as they are, we are sentencing them to certain death. I am not prepared to do so until I know each and everyone of them truly is deserving of it. The men? They fought for Saruman, they must go; they may go in peace if they choose, or by the sword, but they must go all the same. But the women are not the raiders and reavers, merely victims themselves. I say we shall give them the chance to prove themselves, to be nursed back to health and live here. If they can prove themselves to be good and peaceful subjects, then they can stay. That shall be their trial."

Éomer was silent for a moment as he thought this over. "Very well, My King, if that is as you wish." He turned to glare at Miranda: "but know that I'll be keeping a very close eye on these people. If one of them steps out of line..."

Miranda wasn't expecting that a lifetime of racism was going to go away in just a couple minutes, especially not that kind of racism that, to be fair, probably had some grounding in the history of bad blood that lay between the Kingdom and its neighbors. But regardless, it was good to see the young king really step up to the plate. No matter what they decided here today, the next few months were guaranteed be trying on everyone, and this likely wouldn't be the last compromise they'd be making.

They'd closed the book on that issue for now, but there were still many more left. Miranda was starting to get some suspicions that maybe Teller and Cheong decided to send her today for a reason...

"In which case, we'll start planning with the longterm resettlement of this area in mind," she continued, "first off, you know we're gonna have to demolish that dam over there. We had a team from engineering go over it and they said it was built quickly and shoddily. Without regular maintenance, it's pretty much a ticking time bomb. Better to blow it now while the reservoir is still low. Otherwise, we wait for it to collapse on its own and we could have a major flash flood on our hands. Next week, we're thinking of moving everyone to the high ground, and we'll carry out a controlled demolition then."

"Ticking time bomb" and "controlled demolition" were probably not found in the Rohanian vernacular, but they seemed to get the point crystal clear. "Good," remarked Éowyn, "let the river flow again freely. And let it flood those accursed tunnels below us, drown out the sorrows that linger there."

"Before that wretched White Wizard betrayed us, the grounds used to be beautiful," remarked Théodred, "gardens, fountains, fruit-trees growing everywhere."

Miranda nodded. "I'm no expert on landscaping or urban planning, but even if we settle, say, 3,000 people here, there will still be plenty of space to restore some parks and recreational areas. And a monument too, to those who lost their lives in this dreaded war. Indeed, this entire area is going to be needing some ecological reclamation." She pulled up a satellite map on her holotab, much to everyone else's curiosity. "Saruman devastated the entire Nan Curunir region in his relentless drive for raw materials to feed his war effort. Very wasteful and inefficient too. Our industries could have produced the same with a far smaller ecological footprint. Our foundries for instance can extract 100% of the iron out of ore and without the need for tons and tons of charcoal. And we don't need dams for power either, all of our energy comes from clean and sustainable alternatives like solar and nuclear power. But that's all for the future; our number one concern should be implementing some reforestation program, otherwise soil erosion will be a major problem both for agriculture in this region and for the river ecosystem of the Isen, and given that our colony is along the Isen downstream of here, we do have a stake in keeping it clean."

"Perhaps the Ents would be willing to assist in these 'reforestation programs' of yours," offered Éowyn.

Well, supposed Miranda, anything to stop an angry horde of Giving Trees from descending on this place. Even if they could defend themselves, that would probably have all the tree-hugging types back home screaming bloody murder in the streets. And while she was fairly certain that from the sound of it these beings would probably be classified as plants rather than animals, the animal rights groups might still have something to say about it.

* * *

The meeting went on for quite a bit longer before at last they dispersed. The King and his cousins were to return to Edoras with haste to prepare for when they would doubtlessly be called upon soon enough, though they would be leaving two hundred men here at Isengard. Miranda sighed and took a moment to sit down and take a break before the next assignment for the day. She took out her MyPhone and took a moment to flip through all the pictures they'd taken that last weekend - her and Abi together, Chris, Dino and his dad and even that nice little policeman they'd met and shared a smoke with by the river, and that petite young lady who ran the bar at that inn they'd stayed at.

That was when she heard someone approaching. She quickly put away her MyPhone and looked up. "Chris, you weren't on the shuttle this morning," she began, slightly ticked off.

"Sorry, Miri, I just came in on the noon shuttle," replied Chris, apologetically. "Teller and Cheong called me in for something important just as I was heading out this morning. You should have gotten an email about it by now."

"Okay," muttered Miranda, "but what's going on? This is about the ongoing war in Gondor, isn't it?"

"Unfortunately, it is," muttered Chris, "I don't know if you've been following the news lately, but Mordor's gonna be hitting Minas Tirith in a few days."

"What?" she replied, "I thought they were being held up in Ithelien."

"They were," said Chris, reproachfully, "our good buddy Boromir made 'em pay for every bleedin' inch, but turns out they can afford to play the numbers game. They're being pushed back to Osgiliath right now, and that's before we even take account of the fleet they have coming in from the south, and another army marching in from the north."

"Christ, where do they keep getting all these troops from?"

"Apparently, the Kingdom Of Rhun is another ally of Mordor's we didn't account for," said Chris, "they had an army ready to attack the Kingdom Of Dale, but it looks like they're now being diverted south to join in the big push. I guess that means our assistance must've been effective if this Mr. Sauron is taking the First Army seriously."

Miranda cursed to herself. Normally, she would have considered herself a dedicated pacifist. But after seeing what Saruman had done here, she found herself wishing that just this once, the UN would drop their whole "direct intervention only as a last resort" foreign policy and just go bomb those fuckers to kingdom come and back. "Where does this leave us?" she asked quietly, "oh god, don't tell me they're sending another team out there." She pointed at the bustling camp outside, "we're already stretched thin as it is."

"Sadly, it looks like that's gonna be what it is," said Chris. "Listen, this is in the email, but I thought I'd go over it personally with you. Teller, Cheong, VIDI, and a few others are planning to head to Minas Tirith to help oversee the final preparations for the city's defense. They need one of us to come along with them, which means the other two are going to have stay behind and take charge of everything."

"You should go," said Miranda, "we both know Dino's an accountant, not a soldier. That, and I don't think his dad will think very highly of us anymore if after all he's done to get us our little vacation, we thank him by sending his boy off to a war-zone."

"Okay," agreed Chris, "just wanted to make sure you're alright about everything. Running both the colony and this place by yourself and all."

"I'll manage," she replied, "I've been doing so thus far. Besides... I won't be alone. I'll have Dino and Max with me. And a few of the Elves have agreed to stay on a while longer."

"I figured as much," said Chris. He turned to leave but then stopped. "By the way, there's one more thing you might be interested to know."

"That is?"

"Nothing confirmed as yet," shrugged Chris, "but word from Teller is that The CEO has stepped in personally with additional funds for supporting our operation here."

 _Oh?_ , she thought. "Do you know how much?"

"The Kovacs Foundation is planning to raise a hundred million Credits by next month, so I think money won't be an issue any longer."

"A hundred million? That's... that's wonderful! That'll see us through to the end of the year easily."

"Well, she is The CEO," laughed Chris, "though, still, she would have had to divert those funds from elsewhere to have raised them that quickly. I wonder who got screwed over in the process."


	66. Excerpts From The Lab Notes Of

**NOTE : FOR YOUR EYES ONLY**

 ***CLASSIFIED***

 **EXCERPTS FROM THE RESEARCH NOTES OF DR. C. DI STEFANO**

 **Date:** Day 215 After Arrival (04 May, 2155 C.E.)

 **Summary:**

First, the bad news: Specimens DE09 and DE16 perished today while in captivity due to a severe anaphylactic reaction when we attempted to tranquilize them with a dose of TRXY-180. We had speculated, and our initial observations had confirmed, that TRXY-180 would be effective on _H. aelfus_ due to their similar biochemistry. We also knew going in that just as on Earth, where up to 1% of the Human population were found to be naturally allergic to TRXY-180 when it first entered the market in the latter part of the 21st century (a problem that has since been corrected by decades of geno-therapy and other treatments), likewise we also anticipated the possibility that members of the _H. aelfus_ species would also suffer similar levels of occurrences of TRXY-180 allergy among their populace. We knew the risks of administering TRXY-180 going in, and now we know for certain from the deaths of DE09 and DE16 that at least 2 out of our formerly 20 (now 18) living specimens possess this allergy.

On the face of it, 2 occurrences out of a sample size of 20 would suggest that members of _H. aelfus_ suffer rates of adversity to TRXY-180 of around 10%; however, bear in mind that this is based on a tiny sample that in all probability is not an accurate representation of the entire population. Rates of occurrences of this allergy may be higher or lower, but we would need a sample size that more accurately reflects the population size and diversity of _H. aelfus_ (and that would include their relatives on Ulthuan on L0, as well as their relatives on L5) in order to reach a more accurate number. Until then, any percentage we could come up with would be speculation at best.

We had a second incident today. The dose we gave to Specimen DE28 proved insufficient to suppress him, and he woke up and became violent and agitated during his anal-probing (somewhat understandably). Even in bodily restraints, he was able to pose enough of a physical threat that Benton was unwilling to continue with the procedure, saying something about his intern position [sic] "not paying [him] enough for this literal shit." Fortunately, VICI was on site and able to suppress the disagreeable specimen with a precisely-calculated application of blunt-force trauma to the occipital lobe, and I kindly reminded Benton that his prospects for advancement in this career would be highly contingent on the letter of recommendation I would be preparing for him.

Now for the good news: as stated, the remaining 18 living specimens all accepted the doses of TRXY-180, including our valuable Level-5 Mage unit, DE21. However, it was proposed, and we have agreed, that due to the risk that continued use of TRXY-180 may yield other unexpected side-effects, therefore cryogenic storage will be our long-term plan for preserving our living specimens. We have spoken with Capt. Müller, and he has agreed that several cryo-pods will be requisitioned from the UNSV _Belo Horizonte_ for these purposes.

I hope that Ms. A. Flanagan had a nice weekend, but we really need her back here. Once she's back, I'm having her and Dr. P. Muysenbergh immediately assigned to Specimen DE21.

Dr. S. Weir has continued his work on dissecting the eyes of Specimen DE14. The details are attached, but he has made some important observations on the larger sizes of Elven eyes compared to Human ones, the highly evolved _tapetum lucidum_ that is able to afford greater nocturnal vision without sacrificing net visual acuity, as well as the uniquely shaped pupil that, while round like a Human's in normal lighting conditions, is able to contort into a narrow slit, like those found on common domesticated felines and some reptilians. I've largely copied-and-pasted his report, because I will admit that perhaps I may not quite have the stomach for "ice cream" that a dedicated ophthalmologist like Dr. Weir has.

This is the second day that we have been running the gene sequencers. Give it another few days, and we will have the entire Elven genome sequenced. We would have achieved this sooner, but the powers that be insist that most of our available computing power be prioritized towards Dr. Garrett's dept. and their magic laser project and also towards calculating trajectories for the daily deliveries of starship fuel from Lucifer Station out on Planet EE-7. We expect... interesting results when the gene-sequencing is complete.

Dr. A. Mefisto reports that he was successfully able to extract viable sperm and ova from Specimens DE09 and DE16. He has also completed *ahem* compiling measurements of the lengths and weights of all of our L0 specimens. He is now persistent in wanting to be permitted access to the full-body scans of the L5 _aelfus_ species covertly taken by VIDI and Dr. J. Sadhwani during our relief efforts at Isengard. Dr. Mefisto remains convinced in his theory that *ahem* [sic] "there is at least one thing that _H. sapiens_ are definitely superior to _H. aelfus_ in."

 **Observations of Subject J. Adamsen:**

Pvt. J. Adamsen was subjected to a second day's rounds of rigorous psychological, physiological, and neurological examinations. Today, we had the results of yesterday's VITALS Test ready. They show that a final tally representing a deviation of less than 5 percent points from the previous test we had administered back in January, so I decided that there was no harm in disclosing these results with Pvt. Adamsen. He seems rather apathetic and dismissive of the whole thing - understandable, given that these grunt types probably view our "Ivory tower" department with a high degree of contempt and resentment.

Dr. Mertesacker and Muysenbergh insist that Pvt. Adamsen's resistance to DE21's thaumic-based attacks can be explained simply by his augs. This magic spell seems to attack the neurons of its intended victims, and that Adamsen's cybernetic components were able to continue functioning even when his biological ones were severely clouded by a thaumic energy intended to trigger all chemical, thermal, mechanical, and polymodal nociceptors in the recipient's nervous system simultaneously. I, however, disagree.

I've reviewed the helmet cam-footage from the entire incident for what must be the umpteenth time by now, and the incident unfolded exactly as follows: Specimen DE21 struck Pvt. Adamsen with a thaumic attack that took the form of a focused beam of light of some kind (thaumic energy is completely separate from light and thermal energy, but in certain wavelengths do have a tendency to, when in friction with gaseous particles like the air in the atmosphere, generate heat and light). Pvt. Adamsen then went into convulsions, and the camera footage is jerky and unfocused. The readings taken from the implants in Adamsen's brain corroborate this account, and I have been unable to reconstruct any coherent memories or visions from during this period.

However, he then manages to calm himself down and restore normal brain functionality, in spite of the continuing agitation of his nociceptors. This is where we disagree on the exact mechanism by which this was achieved. Dr. Mertesacker insists that cybernetic pain inhibitors are designed to do exactly this, designed to allow the mind some control over pain levels once they reach a certain threshold. She insists that Adamsen, as a trained Marine of the UNCDF, would already be trained and conditioned to have higher pain tolerances than the average Human, which was why it took longer than usual for the pain inhibitors to kick in. While this explanation does not rule out the possibility of my theory, they argue that their's is the more plausible explanation. They further point out the insignificant changes in Adamsen's VITALS test results prior to and after this incident.

I concede that the evidence does trend towards their conclusion being the more likely one, but I insist that we still try and first disprove my conclusion with absolute certainty.

I have one thing to note: based on what I have been able to reconstruct from Adamsen's neural activity, it seems that he possesses a strong personal attachment to his comrade-in-arms, Cpl. K. Lynn, as it seems he thought of her at least once during this particular episode. I will write to Dir. Lombardi and Saito about whether we can discuss with Capt. Müller and Insp. Lynn the possibility of having Cpl. Lynn transferred here to this facility, although I doubt that they will permit this given the escalating situation on EE-L5 and resultant need for all available manpower. The only alternative would be to have Pvt. Adamsen transferred back to EE-L5, but that would require myself or someone else sufficiently versed in this program to accompany him to provide on-site observation, and that would represent an additional constraint on our already strained resources as it is.

I'll have to think on this tomorrow.

 **Observations of Subject B. Stark:**

No new observations to report. However, today Dir. Lombardi commanded me to put a halt on all ongoing efforts due to the ongoing civil war situation on Planet EE-L4. Subject Stark's elder brother and father are currently engaged in a military campaign and a major battle is anticipated shortly. VICI predicts a 95% chance of a Stark victory over their opponents; however, even a victory would still have a small chance of resulting in the injury or death of either R. Stark or E. Stark, which would necessitate the return of B. Stark to EE-L4 for political reasons.

I hope that this will not come to pass, for there is still so much left to do. Subject Stark has made tremendous progress in gradually unlocking his thaumic potential - slowly, yes, but with every possible precaution taken. It would be a severe disservice to the work we have done to end this program at this point, but alas, if the orders come from above, I don't know what I can really do about it.

 **Observations of Subject "Valten":**

[REDACTED]

 **Comparison Of Specimen DE14's Enlarged Hypothalamus With Average** ** _H. sapiens_** **And Preliminary Conclusions:**

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 **Report of Dr. Weir On "Elven Visual Acuity" Based On The Dissection of Specimen DE14's Eyes:**

[REDACTED]

 **Findings Of Specimen DE28's Rectal Examination:**

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 **Findings Of Dissection Of Specimen DE14's Digestive Tract And Implications On Elven Diet:**

[REDACTED]

 **Comparison Of _aelfus_ Muscle Tissue, Structure, Composition, Metabolic Rate, Aerobic  & Anaerobic Respiration With _sapiens_ Forms:**

[REDACTED]

 **Update Of Report of Dr. Mefisto's Findings On "Elven Reproductive Cycle":**

[REDACTED]

 **Results Of Blood-Tests Of Specimens DE14 and DE09: Blood Composition, Oxygenation, Leukocytes, And Hormones:**

[REDACTED]

 **Compilation: Photographs Of Specimens' Epidermis Pre-Dissection, Incl. Scarification And Tattoos - What They Reveal About "Dark Elf" Culture:**

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 **[*You do not have requisite authorization to view the rest of these contents. Please contact your immediate superior for appropriate authorization if the viewing of these contents is absolutely essential for the performance of your assigned tasks. Thank you.*]**

* * *

 ***CLASSIFIED***

 **EXCERPTS FROM THE DIARY OF DR. A. FLANAGAN**

 **Date:** Day 218 After Arrival (07 May, 2155 C.E.)

 **Specimen DE21:**

We thawed DE21 out of cold storage this morning and administered a microdose of TRXY-180-based tranquilizers with the chemical composition and dosage adjusted in order to account for _H. aelfus_ ' higher sensitivity to certain chemical compounds. The dosage worked and we were able to keep subject unconscious, save for two brief spikes in neural activity just before the sedative took effect. For now, we are treading with caution as we don't want to risk triggering something or other especially when working with such a thaumically-potent individual. This is why we will be working primarily on observations taken via ultrasound and the insertion of an endoscopy, as well as tests on blood, hair, saliva, skin cells, mucus, fecal matter, and nail clippings taken from DE21.

Our attempts to determine the age of DE21 were about as successful as the other specimens. By now, we know that Elven bones produce a number of growth rings throughout the course of their centuries-to-millennia-spanning lifespans. However, it appears that upon maturity, which appears to occur between 50 and 100 years of age, the bones do not grow any further in size, although they continue to grow new layers. What happens is that the older and more centrally-located layers are compressed and somehow changed into a crystalline substance - this may be the "Wraithbone" mentioned in some of the native texts VICI uploaded into our database, although Petra is already calling dibs on naming it "Raunchelite". Thus far, we are able to measure the width between individual growth rings, as well as measure the amount of crystal found in each bone. What we are not able to determine at this moment is the rate at which new growth rings are produced, nor the exact amount needed to synthesize this by-product. Once we are able to, however, we will be able to determine an Elf's age simply with a cross-sectional x-ray of, say, the mid-femur.

We did have more success however at identifying and isolating a new hormone in DE21's bloodstream that was not present in any of the other ones. Spectral tests with our thaumometer found trace amounts of thaumic radiation, around 0.01 Pratchetts, suggesting that this hormone may be unique to thaumically-potent members of the _aelfus_ species. Tomorrow we're going to try and identify which gland is responsible for producing and secreting this hormone. Dr. Di Stefano has also asked me to look into how we could possibly acquire more of it, either from DE21 (although I worry that removing too much from DE21 could have unforeseen harmful side-effects on DE21's condition), or to extract it from other mage-level _aelfus_ specimens, or whether it would also be possible to synthesize it. This substance could potentially be of great research value to our pharmaceuticals divisions moving forward. Regardless, she seemed pleased with my work today, and has offered to name this new substance "Flanagene" after myself.

I... I admit I'm flattered by all this. I can't wait to tell Miri about this. She'll be so proud when I talk to her tonight. If nothing else, at least we'll be able to walk away from this whole expedition with something to my name, even if it will be The Company™ who'll end up holding the patents on synthetic Flanagene, whatever use they end up finding for it.

 **Update On Findings Of Dr. A. Mefisto:**

So... yeah. Dr. Mefisto was all excited today when he came to us with the results of his findings. [*Sigh*] Apparently, he claims, the "Gift Of Men" mentioned by the native folklore over on L5 must be that, *ahem*, male and female specimens of _H. sapiens_ tend to be "better equipped" in certain areas than males and females of _H. aelfus_. According to him, this could explain everything from their low fertility rates to why even their dudes look pretty attractive.

Here's the thing: he's been working with the _deceased_ specimens, so how is he even able to get an accurate measurement on how long the... you know what, forget I asked. I don't even want to know. Ugh. Does he not have, I dunno, something more useful he could be doing with the time and resources and expensive lab facilities at his disposal?

Though... I guess that the more we know about how their parts work, maybe the more we might be able to help them with their low fertility problem? They are beautiful and simply lovely to look at - even the ones we have here, despite what they did to Jordan and Jan and the rest of our boys out on the highway. It would be a shame if the Elves became an endangered species within just a generation or two following our arrival. They're already on the decline everywhere, and already extinct on L4 (assuming they even existed there at all, though some of the information Dr. Chakwas sent us looks promising and may reveal something once we finish sequencing the full Elven genome).

Still, though, sometimes I wonder if he could not be doing something more useful. Seriously, it's not like _I_ spent all day today here comparing my bust size with DE21's! (Although, for the record, mine are larger [insert smug emoji]).

 **Preliminary Report On _Naggaraptor adamsensorum_ :**

Dr. Mertesacker and Garrett tentatively approved the designation _Naggaraptor adamsensorum_ , in honor of Jan who was the first Terran ever to kill one. It sounds much better, more descriptive and less vague, than "Cold One" which is apparently what the DE's call them (because, srsly, "Cold One"? I know they're actually endothermic rather than exothermic and able to survive in cold climates, but so can a lot of other animals too! Did whoever it was who came up with these names not have thought of something better?).

Dissections on Specimens CO1 and 2 will begin tomorrow, but today the boys carried out a number of x-rays on all of them and found some interesting results. For starters, although they have a reptilian outer appearance, their skeletal system is more akin to that of avians, hollow and light but actually quite strong thanks to a honeycomb structure. In fact, upon closer examination, their outer epidermis consists of scutes composed of degenerate feather-keratins rather than proper scales (like those found on _squamata_ like snakes and lizards). Finally, an examination of several bones, namely the neck, pubis, semi-lunate carpal, pectoral girdle, furcula, and breast-bone, seem to confirm a possible evolutionary link to _Dromaeosauridae_ , particularly _Utahraptor ostrommaysorum_.

Regardless, Benton looked pretty relieved to have been reassigned here. I can tell you he has NOT looked happy at all these last few days.

 ***EDIT* Continued Observations Of Subject Adamsen:**

I was finally able to catch up with Jan at dinner. I thought Cristi would never stop hogging him! Whatever this big hubbub is all about, he seems pretty much the same to me... or at least as I've always known him ever since they first brought him to us after that nasty fall he had last November. God, I still remember what a right mess he was, what an effort it took from all of us here to patch him back up. I think it was the right thing to do to put him in charge of taking care of Bran. Taking off some time to help the little kid has definitely been good for both of them.

We didn't talk very long, but I gave him that gift and letter that Kyra gave me while I was at Beautiful Horizon. You should have seen the look on his face when he read the letter! Honestly, now that I think about it, Cristi's probably overthinking things, maybe the answer is hanging right in front of our noses and we're so blinded we can't even see it. Or maybe I'm just making up this stuff. I dunno. It's getting late.

 ***EDIT* Weather Report:**

Meteorology Dept. warned us of a heavy storm front moving across the Sea Of Claws. I'll have to remember to pack a rainjacket this week; the covered walkway between our quarters and the bio-med center is not gonna be even started until the _Conrad_ arrives.


	67. The Rain

_**Announcement** : I'd like to begin by thanking all readers who have been remarkably supportive and patient, even through the hard times. I have decided to finish this story. _

_I'm just going to admit it: Book 2 & 3 of the Event Horizon series are a mess. There's no hiding it, I dropped the ball. I thought combining them into one story was a good idea but it turned out to have been a terrible idea in retrospect. Not only that, but I think this story suffers from too many plotlines going on, too many characters, too many ideas, too many things going on at once. I think Book2&3 also suffered from the fact that I have much more going on in real life now than I did back in the good ol' days of Book1, and as a result I just haven't had the time to dedicate to it that I had before.  
_

 _This is why I have decided to delete this story. Maybe re-post it one day in the future as separate stories (as it always should have been), but for now, I think the best thing for this series would be to get rid of Book 2 & 3 and move on. _

_But here's the good news: I have decided I'm going to finish it first. This story needs an ending, and it will get one. I have at this moment 2 completed "prose chapters", 5 completed "battle reports", and 22 completed "synopsis chapters" that, between them, complete this story, so keep an eye out for all of these to be posted in the coming days. Here is the first of two completed chapters.  
_

* * *

 **The Rain**

 **Krash & Lunk (V)**

It had been a long road they had come. What appeared a short distance over just a few days on paper proved in fact to be an arduous journey of much blood, sweat, and tears shed over what seemed like _months_.

But at long last they had arrived, here, where the forests and foothills of Ithelien gave way to the alluvial planes of the Anduin. Naught more than a couple miles away, the burnt out ruins of Osgiliath lay sprawled out across both banks of the ancient river. And off in the distance lay their goal: Minas Tirith, the white city standing up against the mountain, as if t'were standing defiantly and mockingly towards them. The campaign had been long and tiresome and their losses thus far had been great, and there was still much ways to go, and yet to be standing here now, their target on the horizon, gave Krash a small feeling that the end was truly in sight.

He turned to look back. Every minute, more and more troops were emerging from the forests... which ended up causing quite a bit of a jam, as every hundred or so troops would end up crashing into the rear of the hundred troops in front of them who were stopped and waiting around while camp was being made. Yes, making camp had not exactly been their strong-point when they had started off on the long march from Minas Morgul, but he liked to think they had somewhat gotten the hang of it by now. Tents were being hastily erected with some attempts being made to raise them in some recognizable grid pattern; trenches and (more importantly) latrines were being dug, embankments raised, and the stableboys were drawing lots over whose luck would it be to be tasked with feeding the wargs next. The air was a cacophony of shouting and hammers being pounded, training sword clanging, hungry wargs snapping at their masters and whips being cracked upon wanting backsides.

He noticed his co-commander, his brother-in-arms, approaching him. "Krash!" called out Lunk, looking somewhat excited, "we've got a party approachin' from the north! Friends!"

After everything he'd seen over the course of this campaign, Krash was a little wary. He took the spyglass he kept on his belt, and peered north. Sure enough, standing out from the rest of the Army Of Mordor, one could see a group of what looked to be about fifty, maybe sixty, men on horseback. He frowned. _Men_. On _horseback_. Their banners flew proud black serpents on red or red eyes on black, showing where their loyalties lay, but still...

"Easterlings," muttered Krash, "I _hate_ these guys."

"Now, now," offered Lunk, smiling, "they're our allies! Yes, they may be _Men_ , and they may dress differently from us, and speak a different language and they smell funny and talk funny... but hey, they're still on our side!" He licked his lips with a black tongue. "Besides, have you ever tried Rhunish barbecue? I remember holidays by the Sea Of Núrnen when I was a young orcling, no taller than yay high, and there was this tavern that had some Easterling slaves, and they made for the most delicious _khorovats_ you'd ever tasted!"

Krash rolled his eyes, but tactfully held his tongue as the Easterlings rode right up to them. The sight of their horses, groomed and shining beasts, annoyed the Valinor out of Krash. As far as he was concerned, horses were the rides of Men and of Elves; _a true and loyal servant of Sauron rides a warg!_ Their boss used to ride a horse as well, and for that he'd gotten literally washed up, by a _girl_ no less, and had finally traded his ride for something more befitting his status. (Actually, the rumors going around camp were a little unclear over who exactly was the bloke who gave their boss a rough time, with some folk even claiming it was Glorfindel himself. Of course, Krash tactfully decided not to ask "Angry Ol' Angmar" himself to clarify what really happened on the Bruinen).

The leader of the Easterling delegation, distinguished by the fact he was the only one who wasn't wearing a face-concealing helmet or headscarf, was a short but rather rotund man, bald, with a thin mustache and beard, and thick eyebrows. His skin was sallow and swarthy, a darker shade than the Men Of The West that he was used to fighting, but he was still whiter and paler than any Orc, and that irked Krash greatly. He was wearing the same brass-coated lamellar armor and deep burgundy robes underneath, albeit, considerably rounder around the middle to accommodate his girth. Even from twenty feet away, Krash caught a whiff of his copious amounts of perfume mixed with the smell of Men and horse, and winced. As a sign of his status, he wore ten golden rings, one on each of his fat grubby fingers, thick eyeliner, and fine leather boots with long upturned toes reaching back almost to his shins, inlaid with gold thread.

At his signal, one of the riders accompanying him immediately dismounted, and then knelt down next to him on all fours so that he too could dismount using his retainer's back as a convenient step. Krash had to give it to the man, he looked skinny but was strong enough to hold up his master's mass for at least a second or two.

"Sauron is merciful and ever great!" hailed the fat emissary in his strange accent, making a gesture raising his right hand (of touching his forehead with his fingertips, palm facing inwards) and bowing.

"Duh, yes, of course he is," muttered Krash under his breath.

Lunk elbowed Krash in the side, and then quickly returned the greeting, touching his forehead and bowing: "Yes! Sauron is _very_ great!"

"You must be the honorable Lord Commanders Krash and Lunk?" continued the emissary in his funny foreign accent, "I have heard many great tales told to me of your steadfast duty and unswerving loyalty! Of how you alone survived the massacre that befell the sacred gate by that fiendish Elven harlot! Of how you have boldly led our lord's armies through the dark forests and cowardly traps of our mutual enemy! Of how your warriors have stood firm and braved the enemy's fire and lightning and brimstone to reach where you stand today!" He made another gesture, clasping his hands together, "it will be my honor to fight by your side as we lay our final wrath upon Gondor!"

"Sure," quipped Krash, "sorry, remind me, you are...?"

"Prince Azahmat," boasted the rotund man, his chest swooning with pride, "Proud First Son of His Venerable Grace, King Shahpur, Tenth Of His Name, Supreme Satrap Of All Rhun and Warden Of The Celduin, and Princess Anahit, probably the number _four_ concubine in all of Rhun!"

"Yes, Prince Azahmat, Son Of Shahpur The Great, of course!" piped up Lunk, "oh yes, how could we possibly forget? Your family's noble history in dealing with this ongoing insurgency by the traitorous Blue Ones has earned you the... the... the admiration and adoration of all of Mordor! Yes!"

Krash rolled his eyes.

Azahmat turned and spat. "These accursed wizards do not see the light as Lord Saruman does! My only regret is that thanks to their rebellion, we cannot bring the full might and glory of the Kingdom to bear down upon the West!" He sighed. "I have lost a half-brother already in their vile insurrection. Ah well, I suppose one less rival for my father's affections. Pray, tell, what of the White Wizard? Last we have heard, he was marching to teach a lesson on these "Riders Of Rohan" who dare think themselves above our noble Variag allies in horsemanship!"

"Saruman was... killed," said Krash, bluntly. "News is that Isengard was overrun by an alliance of Rohan, the Elves, and these 'Sky-People'."

"Then he shall rest in peace knowing that we shall avenge him," bawled Prince Azahmat, "a truly great and wise visionary. If only his fellow _Istari_ shared in his nobility. Show me the way to these Sky-People, and we shall seek justice for Saruman, blot out the sun with our arrows and show them who the _true_ masters of the sky are!"

"We'll hit Rohan next after Gondor," muttered Krash quickly, "but first let's stay focused on the mission at hand. So... sorry, look, I was expecting a little more than a few dozen men."

"Oh, we are but merely the advance party," declared the Easterling nobleman, "my half-brothers, Prince Shahpur (Eleventh Of His Name) and Prince Dikran, are marching as we speak with the army with which we meant to put an end to these miserable scum who call themselves "the Kingdom Of Dale" before His Lordship instructed that we divert southwards and be part of the main push against Gondor. They are as yet several days away. To move arounds tens of thousands of men, even with horses and camels, is no mean feat, mind you."

 _Yeah, and what about a hundred thousand or more?_ , thought Krash as he turned and looked back at the thousands of orcs all around them, hard at work pitching camp. Then again, to be fair, the distance they'd marched in from Minas Morgul was quite a bit shorter than the long road from Rhun, all the way skirting the northern edge of Mordor. Maybe after this wasteful war was over, maybe they could focus on infrastructure improvements, like a new and more direct road to the east through Núrn. He sighed. Oh, how wonderful life would be once this awful war was finally over and peace returned and all of Middle Earth united under the benevolent rule of the Wise and Great Sauron and he could finally go home. And who know, after having lived through all this, he had absolutely no good reason not to try and find that orcess with that lovely rack down at the local pub and ask her out.

"Well, regardless, we are honored to have you here!" spoke up Lunk, "and you are welcome to be our honored guests as we dine tonight! My food shall be yours!"

Prince Azahmat politely declined, and Krash could see he was struggling to find a polite way of expressing that perhaps Mordorian cuisine, especially after weeks on the road, was not quite appetizing to the Easterling nobles' bellies and that they would rather arrange their own meals. Lunk, however, took it in good faith since he was rather enthusiastic to join them and sample _khorovats_ again even if he was a little disappointed that the meat tonight would only be something called a... a "lamb", whatever that was.

That was when they heard what sounded like thunder rolling in the distance. Krash frowned as he looked up to the sky and yet saw it was perfectly clear. Another flash and roar, like lightning and thunder, except this time he turned in time to see that it was coming from the ruins of the city by the river...

"TAKE COVER!" he blurted. Lunk and Azahmat stared at him surprised for a second before they heard the whistling in the air, and an explosion and a gout of dirt rising up not too far away from them, coupled with the cries of those right where it hit. The horses of their allies were completely panicked and reared up as another explosion occurred, much closer this time, and several of the Easterling riders were thrown to the ground. The prince's own mount kicked the dismounted soldier holding its reins, and then fled.

Azahmat shouted and swore in his native tongue, red in the face with rage, kicking the poor retainer on the ground a second time for letting his prize ride get away. Krash almost smiled for a moment, reminding himself that a true servant of Sauron rides a Warg and not one of those faithless beasts. Then more whistling and explosions erupted around the camp, and Krash decided that now was a good time to do the courageous and heroic thing and hide.

* * *

 **Boromir (VI):**

"FIRE!"

 _ **BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM...**_

From his vantage point, Boromir could hear and feel the pounding as the First Army's artillery corps finally saw their first ever action on the battlefield. The nature of the tactics they had been using up to now combined with the wooded terrain of Ithelien meant that they had only had the opportunity to use their small arms; today was the first time the heavy arms would finally be joining in on the fight for the Kingdom's life.

Right across the street from his command tower stood a two-storey house that must have been the manse of some wealthy merchant back in the glorious days of Gondor. Windows that once held tinted glass now lay empty and broken; any wood in the house burnt away by whatever fires had raged here centuries ago. Only its stonework remained, but in this the craftsmanship of the Old Kingdom shown superbly in that not only had it remained standing after all these years, but now whatever little of it was left was still strong enough that the building served as an artillery station.

Crowning the top of this house, the top floor had been cleared of debris, a wooded stockade erected, and now three of those cannons were placed there, along with their crews of five men apiece, as well as a First Army captain to provide them guidance and direction, and two signalers. Boromir had taken quite the liking to this Sky-People speaking device they called a "radio" - even going so far as to have the ancient Beaconwatch disbanded now that radio had made it to Rohan, and the Beacon Wardens reassigned elsewhere where the manpower was desperately needed - but for now they only had a few of them, and the bulk of the rest of the army still relied on signal flags.

No matter, at least the gun crews by now had been trained and know what to do. Many of them were former trebuchet boys - a trebuchet was not a cannon, it was much larger but also bulkier and less effective, but it was similar in one respect, and that was in how the crew had to work together, in perfect unison, to unleash one shot and then at once ready the next one in as little time as possible. Three of the men were swabbing out the inside of the still smoking barrel with a wet sponge fixed to a long rod, to clean out the barrel and remove any glowing embers as well as to cool it down, while another one retrieved a fresh package from the munitions crates. Each package, sold in bulk by the Sky-People, consisted of the projectile itself bundled together with a cloth bag containing the powder. Once the shot had been rammed down the barrel, the entire crew - some five or six to each gun - would heave and tug on the rope lines, pulling each one forwards back into their position before the recoil from the prior shot had sent them kicking back a few feet. This entire process was being repeated not just here, but at scores of other locations around the old city as the Kingdom showed Mordor their new teeth.

After weeks and weeks of fighting their way through the forests, the enemy had finally arrived. From here to the White City herself lay naught but flat, open land with only the Anduin as their final natural barrier. Osgiliath may now lie in ruins, its bridges long since fallen into disrepair, but the city that was once the Crown Jewel Of The Kingdom was still the best and most obvious point for bridging the river, what with all the siege equipment that Mordor would have had to have brought if they were to have any chance of breaching the sacred walls. No other decent bridging point presented itself anywhere else either upstream or downstream for many miles to come. And for that reason, the First Army Of Gondor had taken every step to turn their old capital into a veritable fortress.

For months now, plans had been carefully drawn up, strongpoints identified; they had not the resources nor time to restore the city walls, but barricades had been hastily erected instead, built from rubble and old masonry and wooden stockades, and now marked and bisected many old street corners and alleyways. Any old houses still in a usable state had been cleared out and partially repaired, and now served as watch-towers and artillery positions. These and many more preparations had been taken; Boromir and his fellow captains of Gondor had learnt much about the Sky-People and their history of warfare thanks to the schooling from the one they called Sergeant Esteban Rico, and several of them had even come to assist them with preparations although they had left, recalled to Enedwaith when Rohan had come under threat.

Rohan had called for aid, and Gondor and the Sky-People had answered both. Now, it looked that soon it would be Gondor's time in turn to call upon her allies. Right now, he could see that there were tens upon tens of thousands of them - more emerging from the forest with each passing minute. Somehow, though, the field commanders had decided not to directly attack Osgiliath as he had been expecting, but instead to first take the time to set up camp. Not only did this grant the First Army some respite, but it also reminded Boromir that the enemy, for all the terror they incited, still had their limitations. Once it looked like the campsite of the army was packed tightly, an enormous target over a mile wide, the order was given, and now veritable thunder and lightning rained down upon the fell creatures like the judgment of Manwe himself.

Beside him, Captain Mablung stood quietly, watching the carnage unfold with those double looking glasses, those "binoculars" as the Sky-People called them.

"M'lord," he spoke, "Easterling banner sighted among the rabble."

"This must be an advance party," remarked Boromir, "Lord Teller informed me that the bulk of their forces is still days away at least."

"So they will not be attacking Dale, as was expected?"

"I think that He Who Must Not Be Named has decided that our city is the priority objective."

"Any chance we mayhaps seek out Kings Brand and Dáin for additional aid?"

"Lord Teller said they were already sending an envoy to treat with Erebor," replied Boromir, "but we shouldn't count on it. The Dwarves, proud fighters they are, but they usually keep to themselves. As for the Men, of their army are but yeomen rallying to defend their homes in time of war, and they haven't had a proper battle since Five Armies. I am guessing a thousand men-and-dwarves-at-arms is the most they will be able or willing to send, if at all." Still, thought he, the morale boost of even a token force of allies was not to be discounted...

The bombardment continued for the better part of a half-hour, before at last Boromir gave the command to cease. They would need to conserve their munitions for later, and whatever damage they could do had already been dealt, seeing as the Mordorian camp now lay burning, and the remainder of their troops were scattering in all directions - though whether they were merely acting out of Orcs' natural cowardice, or under direction of their commanders in the hopes of lessening the impact of each strike was not clear. Those that tried to flee back towards the woods caused additional havoc and chaos as they ran right into the forces that were marching in from there. A few small, separate groups of them ran towards Osgiliath, though they were driven back by disciplined volleys of rifle-fire from the men manning the old city's defense lines. All in all, it had been a good day for the First Army; Boromir knew of course that they had made hardly a dent in the enemy's greater numbers, but they would take whatever they could at this point.

Nighttime was fast approaching, and he knew very well that Orcs and other fell creatures preferred the darkness. Perhaps the Army Of The Dark Lord would be taking their time tonight to lick their wounds from the day's barrage, but no chances were to be taken. Some time ago, among the Sky-People's many other forms of assistance, the city had received a number of large cylindrical devices that, during the day, were said to collect the power of the sun and then at night, with the flick of a switch, would release that pend-up light in a brilliant piercing beam.

They had tried them out several nights before, but now tonight was the first time that they would shine all of these so-called "searchlights" at once. Not even in the glory days of the Kingdom did the Old Capital glow as brightly as it did tonight, white light bathing the grounds around the city, a true bastion of light against the onslaught of darkness. As much as the lights were important in helping find any nighttime attacks or raids, Boromir felt they also gave some measure of warmth and comfort to the city defenders; it certainly did so for he himself as he watched each beacon turned on, adding its light to the others. The old beacon trail to Rohan was no more now that newer and more "modern" means of communications had been established between the two Kingdoms, but the Beacon Wardens had found new employ in manning these electric lights that were probably every bit as vital a weapon against the growing dark as any cannon or rifle.

"Brother!" declared a familiar voice, and Boromir broke off from his gaze to turn and see Faramir approaching and saluting him. He returned the salute, but he could also see that something was troubling his brother, not least of all because he looked disorderly and unkept; not only had he ridden hard and fast to reach here, but he had come directly to him without first taking time to compose himself. This must have been very important.

"What is it, Faramir?" he replied.

"Brother, there is something you need to see," said Faramir, "the Dragoons encountered a party while out on a ranging just north of here. There was a bit of a confrontation, but we have them now in our custody."

"Orcs? Or Men?" asked Boromir. If it was another party of Rhun, then the Easterlings might be arriving sooner than expected...

"At least one Man, yes," answered the First Ranger, "but the rest, well, you have to see them for yourself."

* * *

 **Krash & Lunk (VI)**

Morgoth be praised, night was at long last falling and the attack ceased, and the camp was in an even greater uproar of chaos and confusion everywhere. The wounded and dying lay all about, smoke and flame rising from the newly-formed craters where the enemy lightning had struck.

True to their training, the survivors were going about and administering the Dark Lord's mercy upon the wounded (usually a quick prayer of praise followed by a cudgel to the head); with their destination so close in sight now, the Great Army Of The Dark Lord couldn't really afford to brake for anyone right now. Though as strongly as he believed in the unquestionable righteousness of their cause, Krash couldn't help but feel a great pang of guilt and sadness as he strode along and surveyed the scene. And feel the pressure mounting on him even more to make their courageous sacrifices all worth it.

"Well, look on the dark side, bruv, it coulda been far worse," chortled Lunk, as he strode alongside his co-commander, greedily biting into something he was holding in his right hand.

Krash stopped. "What. Are. You. _Eating_?"

"Lavash wrap," replied Lunk, his mouth full and voice a little muffled as a result, "I got it from our new Rhunish friends! Prince Azahmat (he's okay, don't worry) was feeling a little flustered after this 'ole artillery bombardment deal, and when he's flustered, he eats, so they're making dinner right now. It's delicious! By the way, did you know that 'lamb' is the word these humies use for 'small sheep'?"

"I can't believe it," whimpered Krash, shaking his head, "I'm here trying to salvage something out of this mess, and all you can think about is _stuffing your face_?!"

"Hey!" protested Lunk, taking another bite, "all this stress and excitement is making me hungry too! I think much better when I'm fed!"

Krash shook his head. Just then, he noticed one of their subordinates, Leftenant Snook, approaching them.

"What's the news?" barked Krash, "actually, no, I probably already know what it's gonna be, and it's probably all bad." The look on Snook's face seemed to confirm Krash's suspicions. "Look, just tell me this instead: where's our own artillery? I want to retaliate, on the double!"

"M'lord, Ghrond n' the rest o' our siege train is as yet a couple days behind us," groveled Snook, "great beasts o' Golgoroth are strong critters but they ain't exactly the fastest around. An' Mordor engineerin's the finest in the world, but these 'ere roads 'ave been pretty taxin' on our wagonz."

"Blast. Very well, we'll set the boyz to digging siege trenches tonight and await the arrival of our siege train before we advance any further. Dismissed."

"Sorry, m'lord," countered Snook, refusing to stop pestering him, "but 'is Dread Majesty The Witch-King commanded the city fall by the time 'e arrives."

 _Morgoth dammit_... thought Krash, calmly pinching the bridge of his nose... _shit!_ He sighed. "Okay. Very well then. We'll take the night to rest and take a headcount of who's still fit for action. And then we'll attack tomorrow morning at sunrise. I've 'eard the humies use this trick about getting the sun in the other guys' eyes and..."


	68. Battle For Osgiliath Part I

_**Writer's Notes:** here is the first of many "synopsis chapters" that will conclude Book 2  & 3\. _

_I'll let readers in on some of my creative process: when I started writing this story back in the good ol' days of 2015, I started out with an outline several pages long, with each chapter being a paragraph that explains, briefly, what happens in it. Each paragraph is then copied and pasted onto a separate Word doc and expanded out into a full synopsis like the one you are about to read. The synopsis is more detailed than the summary, explaining all the important plot points, character motivations, emotions, background notes explaining and justifying each point, etc._

 _Once the synopsis is done, then comes the actual hard part, which is expanding each synopsis into the full "prose chapter", complete with dialogue, details, setting the mood / "atmosphere", action, etc. I say this is the hard part, because a "synopsis chapter" only takes me 1 to 2 days to make, whereas a full "prose chapter" takes anywhere from days to weeks (depending on the content). But to give you some perspective, this synopsis chapter alone is well over 4,000 words; expanded into full prose, it would probably be over 20,000 words(!), would have taken anywhere from 1 to 2 months to write, and would have had to be split into 4 or 5 smaller chapters.  
_

 _I did, in fact, complete a full synopsis outline for Books 2 & 3 about a year ago, but since then just have not found the time nor motivation to convert each and every one of those synopses into prose (and when you read just how thick and detailed the planned chapter was, you may better understand why). But, as stated before, I believe the readers deserve to know how I planned to end this story, which is why I will be sharing the synopses for the rest of this book over the coming days, and then delete this entire story once all readers have had the chance to read it.  
_

 _I wish more writers on this website would use the "synopsis chapter" as a tool to finish all those great stories out there that are just hanging around, unfinished, because the writer doesn't have the time to finish them. For example, one of my personal favorites is **"The Mission Stays The Same"** , a 40k / Mass Effect crossover. It's fantastic, but it just ends abruptly, and understandably so, because the writer has had difficulties in RL and I sympathize - all of us do. But it would have been great if the story had ended with even just a paragraph that says "yeah, the Reapers get defeated by so and so, no stupid ME3 endings here and also none of this Andromeda bullshit. This happens to Jack, this happens to Gallardi, this happens to Maeteris, and this happens to Shepard. The end, so long, and thanks for all the fish."_

 _Now, without further ado, here is the first part of the rest of this story. I hope that even in an incomplete state, it still proves to be a fun and exhilarating read, that gets readers excited for what comes next._

* * *

 **The Battle For Osgiliath**

 **Part I**

 **Boromir** :

At the end of the last chapter, Faramir informed his brother General Boromir that intruders had been captured by the First Army's scouts. Here's what happens next.

In this chapter, it is revealed who exactly these prisoners are. Faramir explains to his brother that they were encountered while trying to ford the river near Cair Andros (about 40 miles north of Osgiliath). Apparently, these intruders were trying to cross the river under the cover of night, when they ran into a First Army patrol. Curiously, Faramir notes, they were trying to cross _west to east_ rather than the other way, which is what the vast majority of people crossing the river have been doing, trying to flee from the ravaging Easterling Army that's marching south into Gondor from Dale. This is what first drew the suspicion of the Gondorian soldiers.

The other thing notable about these intruders is that they're a pretty eccentric mix: a dwarf, four Hobbits, a man, and two Elven women... no, sorry, my mistake, one Elf _man_ and one Elf woman (to be fair on Faramir, Elven men and women _look the same!_ Or at least they do in this universe). Not only is it bizarre to see Hobbits (let alone four of them) this far away from the Shire, but the fact that they're in the company of a dwarf and 2 Elves set off a lot of red flags.

Finally, and Faramir confides this to his brother in hushed tones: there's something about them that's not quite right, though he can't quite place it. He suspects that it's something to do with the lone man among them, who could be... well... Boromir cuts off Faramir before he can finish his statement and demands immediately to see these prisoners for himself.

Faramir leads Boromir to the holding area where the prisoners are being kept, a large searchlight being kept on them at all times. The prisoners are all surprised and disorientated slightly (this is their first time encountering electric lighting, so one can imagine what it must be like having this honking big searchlight shining right in their faces). They've been disarmed, although Faramir warns that they had put up quite some resistance. A scuffle had broken out when they refused to yield to the patrol, and it turns out they _almost_ completely overpowered the patrol that stopped them. Miraculously, no one was killed in the incident although several Gondorian soldiers were injured. Apparently, the man among them was the one who had called for the violence to stop. Hearing this, Boromir begins to suspect that there is indeed something strange about this man.

Although told what to expect, Boromir is still rather surprised and taken aback by what he sees and has a bad feeling about these prisoners. He just can't place it, although he's sure it's indeed the man among them, whom he can now see is definitely of Numenorean stock. (The purpose of the line-up / pat-down search is also to establish that, yes, these are indeed the Fellowship, and that their composition is very different from OTL. First off, while we're not told who the woman is, we do know from the (non-canon) Council Of Elrond chapter that Tauriel was present and volunteered to be the ninth person. Secondly, Gandalf is not present, although we already know that he diverged from the Fellowship at some point due to his presence in Rohan during the war there. Finally, Gollum is not present, which leaves open the mystery of his involvement in this story's version of events - a fact that this story will most certainly address later on).

Boromir interrogates the prisoners one by one. He decides to leave the man for last, and decides to start off by interrogating the Elven woman. He approaches the two Elves and begins talking to the more attractive one... only to be corrected and embarrassed to learn that he's actually talking _to the man_ , and that the _other_ one is the lady here. (I figured we needed a moment of comedic levity to close off an otherwise tense chapter).

* * *

 **Krash & Lunk**:

Over in the Mordor army camp, Krash and Lunk have called an emergency council in the main command tent to draw up battle plans for their plans to take Osgiliath. All of their command staff are present, as well as Prince Azahmat, the leader of the Easterling delegation. Krash and Lunk receive reports from all their subordinates, and begin planning out their assault on the city the next day.

At this point, the army camp consists of over 60,000 troops, with more arriving every hour; of these, half of them have been put to work (no rest or break or time to recover from either the march or the grueling artillery barrage they had endured earlier that evening), excavating a series of siege trenches encircling the city. The goal of these trenches is both defensive (to defend against any Gondorian counter-attacks from the city), as well as to provide cover for their troops as they approach the city.

Here, we do get a bit more of a look into the character and interactions between Krash, Lunk, their subordinate Leftenant Snook, and Prince Azahmat. Their characterizations are as follows:

 **1\. Krash** : he's actually a pretty serious and competent military officer. At least in _theory_. Turns out that Krash is a good _armchair general_ , of the type who wouldn't be too far out of place on a website like Spacebattles insofar as he knows the general theory of good tactics and strategy, although whether he is actually capable of pulling this off in practice, or whether he has the kind of grit and charisma to be able to inspire his followers, is something we haven't really seen thus far in this story. Basically, he can give good orders but can he make his troops follow them? But at least his strategy here is sound: despite the insistence of the other orcs that they attack at night (because orcs prefer darkness), Krash insists that the attack take place at dawn. He points out that according to their scouts, Gondor has some new kind of "canned sunlight" (the searchlights) that can "capture the sun and make it shine it at night", thereby nullifying the Orcs' advantages of attacking at night. So, his thought is to respond to this by using the actual sun, when it rises, to try and blind the defending forces. Hence, attacking at sunrise from the east.

 **2\. Lunk** : for most of their appearances thus far in this book, Lunk was played for a bit of a comedic foil to Krash, his lighter and more airheaded demeanor more or less constantly (if passively) antagonizing Krash's more serious approach. This is the chapter where we begin to see elements of Lunk's actual strengths as a character. Lunk is open and jolly towards the Easterlings and gets along with them. He trades jokes and banter with his subordinates and with the Easterling Prince. He is optimistic and cheerful about their prospects of a victory, and certainly a lot more relaxed than Krash, who's all tense and everything. If you were one of the many nameless henchmen in Mordor's army, Krash is the one you'd probably want formulating your strategy, but Lunk is the one you'd want by your side when it's finally time to charge at the enemy; he's the kind of orc you could sit down and have a beer with and trade jokes with.

 **3\. Leftenant Snook** : Snook is one of those side-characters who was originally introduced as a one-off a while back, as just another redshirt #537 to give reports to and take orders from Krash and Lunk. He might actually have potential to be a character in his own right, albeit, still feeding primarily off of Krash and Lunk's story arc. In this chapter, he and several other redshirts (for our purposes, let's call them #538, #539, #540, and #541 - I could come up with names for them, or even better I can let YOU, the readers, come up with names for them, but it doesn't really matter because they're all pretty expendable and interchangeable anyway) are all present at the council, of course, as usual, presenting reports from around camp and taking orders from their two commanders. Snook at least gets a bare minimum of characterization when he is shown rolling his eyes and being annoyed by his superiors' commands. Lunk tries to break the ice a little by asking Snook how is his wife and their little orclings back home, to which Snook replies that he doesn't have any (the comedy here comes from two areas: first, that Lunk's attempt to be upbeat and friendly fails, and second, pointing out that poor redshirts like Snook are so flat and interchangeable that even Lunk forgot who he was!).

 **4\. Prince Azahmat** : Rhun was never really explored to a great extent in canon, so the main purpose of having this character is to have fun expanding the universe with a glimpse into Rhunish culture. Azahmat, as was established prior, is a bit of a pampered pudgy prince who panicked at the first sign of danger (to be fair, he's never experienced an artillery bombardment before). But _damn_ does this guy at least know how to eat and travel in style - he's always dressed in the finest silks, has his own chef brought along to prepare the finest Easterling cuisine, smokes the best hashish (possibly related to Shire pipeweed), and even brought a few, ahem, "personal entertainers" along with him (which Krash personally finds disgusting). What can I say? The honorable son of King Shahpur The Great (and his 4th favorite concubine) demands his creature comforts even when on the march to war. While Krash is busy trying to formulate strategy, Prince Azahmat is sitting there, listening and nodding along but also smoking his hookah and stuffing his face with stuffed dates (though, to his credit, he's polite enough to share with everyone, though only Lunk takes him up on his offer).

* * *

 **Faramir** :

It's some time around midnight. Faramir enters the abandoned building in Osgiliath that has since been taken over by the First Army and converted into a holding area. There, downstairs in the cellar, he finds all of the Fellowship members being held in separate iron cages. He and Boromir had interrogated them all earlier, but something is still puzzling him and he suspects that the version of the story they told him was not true. He vaguely recalls the dream that he and his brother had so many months ago about something of great importance residing in Imladris (Rivendell) and wonders if they're somehow related. So, he has decided to try and question them again, by himself this time, and see if he has better luck.

Except that he notices something is wrong as he enters the holding cells. The guardsman on duty is knocked out, unconscious, and one of the cages is empty, while one of the other cages is in the process of somehow unlocking itself (the key is inside the keyhole, fumbling around by itself). Faramir is confused by this, and then he sees the footprints on the floor and realizes that someone is using an _invisibility cloak_ or something to that effect. Faramir, using his skills carefully honed by years of experience as a Ranger Of Ithelien, is able to strike at and quickly overpower the invisible person.

A brief struggle ensues wherein Faramir is wrestling with someone he literally cannot see, but who is also much smaller and weaker than he is. That's when Faramir looks up and notices that of the four Hobbit cages, the one that's empty is the one that belonged to the one named Frodo. Faramir suddenly remembers that when they had interrogated Frodo earlier that evening, he had noticed a simple and unassuming golden ring hanging around his neck; in that instant, Faramir connects the dots and realizes that the ring _must_ be the invisibility charm. He grabs the ring and yanks it off of the invisible man's finger, revealing that yes, the invisible person is indeed Frodo.

Faramir confronts Frodo, all the while grasping the ring in his hand, and angrily demands to know what is going on. Frodo at first tries to insist on the story he told them earlier, that he and the Fellowship are on unrelated quest to deliver some object somewhere. Faramir knows that he's lying, and also points out that the only reason he can think of right now that anyone would be traveling east is if they are spies for Mordor, in which case, they will all be executed. He repeats his demands on Frodo to tell him what's really going on.

We have a tense moment here as Frodo and Faramir stare down each other, while the rest of the Fellowship, still locked up in their separate cages, look on in apprehension. And then, Frodo sighs and begins to come clean about everything. Aragorn warns Frodo against disclosing everything to Faramir, but Frodo decides to press on for some reason.

 **The Fellowship's Journey** :

(Sparknotes version, as narrated by Mr. Frodo Baggins)

 _After the rather abortive Council Of Elrond, the Fellowship left Rivendell with nine members in total: Frodo himself, Samwise, Meriadoc and Peregrin Took, the Elves Legolas and Tauriel, the Dwarf Gimbl Son Of Gloin, and of course Strider of the Dunedain (although Frodo did adamantly insist that they take Glorfindel with them, but his pleas got turned down because... reasons). Actually, this is rather misleading; they stayed at Rivendell for over a month after the Council, giving Frodo time to recover from his injuries at Weathertop, and so didn't depart Rivendell until it was almost the new year._

 _*Actually, here's a point of contention that has always confused me: according to the official chronology, in OTL, the Fellowship left Rivendell in the winter, with Frodo finally reaching Mordor sometime in March. In spite of that, I don't recall if the books ever mention the non-mountain segments of the journey being snowy at all, and the movie definitely does not show this (unless we are to assume that, much like RL New Zealand, Middle Earth has their summer during December to February)._

 _In any case, we know that they left Rivendell and made directly south, skirting the Misty Mountains and hoping to cross through the Gap Of Rohan. They made it as far south as Hollin before realizing that the Gap Of Rohan was a no-go, and then attempted to cross at the pass of Caradhras but were forced to turn back due to a mix of inclement weather and an avalanche._

 _At some point (and this could be due to various butterfly effects resulting from anything from The Company™'s arrival, to the different composition of the Fellowship, to just Eru Iluvatar (i.e.: **me** , the writer)_ _saying so) the Fellowship found and captured Gollum well before they did in OTL. They had wanted to kill the creature at first, except that Gandalf expressed that they should show compassion instead, and that Gollum may yet have a role to play. They eventually convinced Gollum to tag along with them._

 _The only other route was through the Mines Of Moria. The western approach to the mines lies within an ancient, half-submerged city on the edge of a lake (one would say one of non-Euclidean geometrical architecture) and that this gate only reveals itself "when the stars are right", but that said activity also draws the attention of the eldritch "Watcher In The Water". The Fellowship witness the Watcher rise up from the lake (and in this universe, the Watcher has a very Cthulhu-like appearance, inspired no doubt by the works of H.P. Lovecraft) and they just barely escape with their lives just in the nick of time._

 _For several days, they push onward through the Mines Of Moria, battling goblins and finding out the tragic fate of Balin's expedition. Then, a wild Balrog appears! At which point, several Fellowship members snidely remark that maybe they *should* have taken Glorfindel after all, and all while running the heck for their lives. They make it as far as the Bridge Of Khazad-Dum, and we all know what happens afterwards, except with a twist: we never actually see Gandalf fall into the pit (though he may very well have), as the Fellowship is forced to flee through the doors (which begin to fall shut, Indiana Jones-style, and that Gandalf has to use some of his magic to hold them open just long enough) long before we actually see the bridge collapse. So, in the end, Gandalf's fate is left ambiguous, although Faramir reports that Gandalf is in fact alive and well and has been helping out Gondor and Rohan's war effort, to which Frodo and the rest of the Fellowship rejoice._

 _After leaving Khazad-Dum, the Fellowship made it to Lothlorien, where they met Galadriel. Faramir reports that he saw Galadriel come to Isengard, and wonders if the Fellowship had anything to do with it._

 _The Fellowship then took boats down the Anduin River until they reached Amon Hen. There, they were ambushed and attacked by Uruk-Hai forces wielding weapons unlike any they had ever seen before: some kind of staff that spits fire and brimstone (these are, of course, the firearms that Isengard and Mordor have been developing, thanks to information given to them by a traitor within The Company™. Now, of course, Isengard and Mordor do not yet possess the technological and industrial capacity to produce modern firearms, but even early-level black powder muskets can still be deadly in the right hands)._

 _A battle broke out at Amon Hen, although, working together, the Fellowship was able to fight off the attack - namely, figuring out that these new weapons, while intimidating at first and very noisy and smoky, were actually shown to be highly inaccurate, and also highly inefficient, as a black powder musket takes a full minute to reload. A skilled Elven archer can fire off many arrows in that time, and far more accurately, and the Fellowship had at least two such archers, so they were able to make short work of the Uruks attacking them._

 _The battle, however, was not without loss: Gollum was struck by a musket ball and killed. Yes, you read that correctly, no more Gollum in this story. The act of destroying the Ring will have to fall to someone else. And before the hardcore Tolkienites reading this start going apeshit, look, this is an alternate universe that breaks from canon, so just roll with it. Who knows, maybe this is what this alternate universe Eru Iluvatar (i.e. **me** , the writer) wills.  
_

 _The Fellowship got back onto the boats and continued down the Anduin River until they reached Cair Andros. En route, they had gotten their news about the latest goings-on in the war by occasionally stopping to ask peasants in Rohan and Gondor._

At this point, Faramir cuts Frodo off and says that Frodo has explained _how_ they came to Cair Andros, but he did not explain _why_. He finds it hard to believe that a group would have gone to such lengths as they, and would have involved even the wizard Gandalf himself, if not for something very clearly important. He then asks the armor-piercing question: is this tiny, innocuous ring he's holding... none other than the weapon of the enemy?

* * *

 **Krash & Lunk**:

In the early morning, Krash and Lunk are out in the trenches, along with thousands of other Orcish soldiers (and some Easterling too), all lined up, swords and spears (and a few of Mordor's first firearms as well) all held at the ready.

Up until now, Krash & Lunk have been the comedic relief of this story, but they've also played the important role of "giving character" to the Orcs, something Tolkien never really did in the original books. This chapter is a little more serious, though it still builds on their character development. Lunk (despite his earlier _Blackadder_ / Baldrick-like behavior) stands up and makes an epic rousing speech about how the war is almost over, how they can literally see victory on the horizon. Yeah, he's an orc and he's fighting for the evil that is Lord Sauron, but maybe, just maybe, some readers out there can't help but sympathize with these poor expendable orcs and maybe even start rooting for them. Regardless, just as the sun breaks the horizon and the light is touching the walls of Osgiliath, that's when Krash blows his whistle, signaling the assault to begin.

War trumpets are blown, signal flags waved, and the battle cries of thousands of Orcs drone out as the troops climb out of the trenches and rush at the city. Lunk initially tries to climb out of the trenches too to charge alongside the rest of the troops, but Krash grabs him by the arse and pulls him back down into the trench, asking him "what the Valinor are you thinking?!" Does Lunk really want to throw himself into the fray with the first wave? At least wait for the reserves to be engaged, Morgoth damn it! Lunk apologizes and replies that he got a little carried away in the spirit of things.

* * *

 **Boromir:**

Soldiers manning the watchtowers are ringing the bells like mad, warning of the impending attack. Throughout Osgiliath, Gondor soldiers are rushing to man the defenses. Boromir (who by now has gotten used to being in his armor nearly 24/7, even sleeping in it, and dreads to imagine what the smell will be like when he finally has the time to take it off for a good clean bath), climbs the ladder up to the top of the barricade and sees the Orc horde charging at the city. The artillery and the rifle corps have already opened fire. Artillery shells land all around No-Man's Land, detonating, throwing up spouts of mud and dirt.

Boromir notices that some of the Orcs (true to their cowardly nature) do indeed break and try to turn around and flee (usually to get whipped / speared by their own superiors coming up right behind them), but otherwise the numbers of them barreling at the wall are such that they just keep coming. Boromir shouts orders to his subordinates, all the while wondering where the hell his brother is when he needs him.

* * *

 **Frodo:**

Sunlight. Frodo and his companions emerge out through the doorway onto the banks of the Anduin River. He looks around. The river banks are empty as all the Gondorian soldiers are rushing to man the city barricades. This is good. Even though the Fellowship are now all clad in Gondorian uniforms, Frodo suspects that at least a few of them (i.e.: Gimli and the Hobbits) look a little out-of-place and so these disguises may be completely pointless.

The Fellowship is followed closely behind... by Faramir. Yes, folks, it seems that Faramir has had a change of heart. He has decided to let the Fellowship be on its way. (It's worth pointing out here that Faramir was, in OTL, one of the few people who was incorruptible by the Ring). Faramir tells the Fellowship about a secret path through the mountains above Minas Morgul that should help them find a way into Mordor, except that they should be careful if any of them are particularly arachnophobic (to which Legolas responds with the bold claim that "I'm from Mirkwood! Spiders are our specialty!" - words that, I promise you, are absolutely not going to come back and bite him later on).

Faramir also points them to several boats tied up to the dock, and instructs them on what route they should take in order to avoid both Mordor's host marching in from the east, as well as the Harad and Umbar forces marching in from the south (the Fellowship are all impressed by Faramir's knowledge, which he credits to the Sky-People's magic called... "satellites" or something, whatever that is). Finally, the Fellowship had restocked on rations from some of the First Army's supplies, including even a few Sky-People food items (feel free to add your creative suggestions here, and it would probably be mainly military ration items, but somehow, the image of Frodo drinking Coca-Cola always appealed to me). All said and done, Faramir bids them well, and then turns and runs back into the city to aid in its defense.

Aragorn watches Faramir run off. Frodo calls out to Aragorn, calling for his help in untying the boats. Aragorn turns and assists in launching the boats out into the river, wading up to his waist while pushing the first boat. And then, instead of climbing aboard the boat himself, Aragorn turns and wades back towards the shore, drawing his sword. Aragorn proclaims that he is "Isildur's Heir" and that Gondor needs him, and that his place is here.

Frodo and the rest of the company are shocked and confused by this and shout out to him; Gimli in particular is a little more crass and demands that Aragorn "get yer arse on this 'ere boat at once!"

Aragorn simply beckons them to be silent, lest they draw the attention of either Gondor or Mordor's troops, and then strides off into the city. The Fellowship are dumbfounded by Aragorn's sudden decision to come to Gondor's aid, but then they have no choice but to continue down the river anyway because time is running out.


	69. Battle For Osgiliath Part II

_**Writer's Notes:** and here is the second part of the "Battle For Osgiliath". Again, even though this is a "synopsis chapter", it's over 4,000 words long, which means that had I ever found the time to write the full chapter, the final "prose chapter" could have easily been over 20,000 words (and would have had to be broken up into several smaller chapters), meaning that the entire "Battle Of Osgiliath" arc would have easily been over 40,000 words long. Regardless, I hope that this chapter still proves to be a thrilling and engaging read.  
_

* * *

 **The Battle For Osgiliath**

 **Part II**

 **Boromir:**

The Orc horde has reached the first line of barbed wire. The artillery crews continue operating the cannons, firing madly into the throng of bodies. Boromir watches the battle unfold from his watchtower, itching to grab his sword, madly wanting to join the fray himself, but knowing that his job is to remain here and coordinate the defense. Meanwhile, the Orcs have managed to get through the barbed wire, mainly by piling bodies against it until it finally gives way under the weight, or at least creates a blanket covering the wire. They have now reached the barricade in several places, and are now trying to clamber over that while the Gondor soldiers standing behind each barricade jabs back at them. As instructed, the various captains and lieutenants signal for the riflemen to be withdrawn from combat, and instead swordsmen and spearmen take their place.

Boromir notes too that the big guns are falling silent one by one. He realizes that they're running out of shells. He calls for an aide to order more shells to be brought up to the front when he hears another blast of trumpets in the distance, and sees another wave of Orc troops rising from the trenches off in the distance and rushing at them. He knows that there won't be enough time to bring up extra shells from the rear before this next wave slams into the barricades, so he reluctantly gives the order to pull back and withdraw the artillery.

Unfortunately, some of the cannons had been placed on top of old buildings in order to improve their range, but at the cost that because of all the effort taken to put them up there, it's now impossible to take them back down quickly. These cannons will have to be left behind. In order to prevent them falling into the hands of the enemy, the crews have been ordered to destroy them. As he prepares to descend from his tower, Boromir notices that the building where just last night he had watched the artillery crew hard at work, now he can see them stuffing the cannon's barrel with leftover powder, their plan being to explode the barrel and prevent its use by Mordor.

* * *

 **Faramir:**

Faramir runs through the city streets. Dozens of Gondorian riflemen are rushing past him, trying to keep formation in lines of two abreast, while swordsmen run in the opposite direction, following Faramir. He rounds a corner and makes it to the barricade just in time to see a segment of it pulled down by the sheer weight of Orcs piling up behind it. No time to think, Faramir raises his sword and charges at the gap in the barricade, swinging left and right. A dozen more swordsmen rush up behind him to support him, and together they are pretty effective at killing every Orc that rushes through the gap, so much so that the growing pile of Orc bodies is almost enough to plug the gap!

And then there's a large explosion, not too far away. Faramir looks up to see one of the old buildings that had been renovated as an artillery position is now consumed in flame and smoke, pieces of flaming debris and shattered masonry raining down everywhere. Faramir knows that some of the cannon crews had been instructed on how to destroy their guns if their position gets overrun, but knowing that it's now come to that is a very dire sign indeed. Leaving this section under the command of Captain Damrod, Faramir leaves to go and find his brother.

* * *

 **Krash & Lunk:**

Krash is sitting and watching the battle from the safety of his dugout with his spyglass. Good. They've reached the barricades. Better yet, those damned cannons have finally stopped. There promises to be much more fighting once they're actually inside the city, but at least there they won't be sitting ducks for the range advantages of Gondor's army. He shouts out to Leftenant Snook and/or other interchangeable expendable redshirt/mook #5-whatever, and orders the next wave to begin advancing in support of the first and second waves of troops. Unlike the chaos of the first two waves, this next wave consists of troops marching in reasonably organized formations, and some of them are even singing along, "motivated" by their officers, in order to keep morale high.

 **It's A Long Way To Minas Tirith**

(sung to the tune of "It's A Long Way To Tipperary")

 _It's a long way to Minas Tirith,_  
 _It's a long way to go._  
 _It's a long way to Minas Tirith,_  
 _There and back again to our home!_

 _Goodbye to Minas Morgul!_  
 _Farewell, Beaches Of Nurnen!_  
 _It's a long, long way to Minas Tirith,_  
 _But now we can see the end!_

 _It's a long way to Minas Tirith,_  
 _It's a long way to go._  
 _It's a long way to Minas Tirith,_  
 _From the sweetest Orcess I know!_

 _Goodbye to Minas Morgul!_  
 _Farewell, Green Fields Of Nurn!_  
 _It's a long to Minas Tirith,_  
 _But we'll make sure it will BURN!_

* * *

 **Frodo:**

By now, the Fellowship are well on their way, the boats having slipped away safely. They're about a mile away from the city. In the next boat, Legolas calls out to them, explaining that they've got to start rowing to quicken their pace and get away from here. Sam tries to cheer Frodo up, saying that maybe Aragorn left them because he had a higher purpose here in Gondor. Frodo looks back at the city, and despairs slightly; this is the first large scale battle he's ever seen and he's does not like what he sees at all. Reluctantly, he picks up his oar and starting rowing.

* * *

 **Boromir** :

Boromir is running across the rooftops of Osgiliath (some of the buildings had planks and walkways set up between them to allow movement of troops along the high ground). All around him, he can see chaos as Orc hordes swarm around the buildings he's on. It's clear that the first line of defense has fallen, and now they must withdraw to the second line, somewhere deeper in the city.

Up ahead, on the next rooftop in front of him, he sees Orcs break through one of the doors and begin pouring out onto the roof. A couple Gondor guardsmen stationed on that roof fight back, but are quickly overwhelmed. One of the Orc captains sees Boromir rushing at them, and kicks away the plank-bridge connecting the two buildings. The plank falls to the street below. Boromir, however, keeps running and tries to _leap_ the gap between the two buildings.

Unfortunately, though, Boromir does not possess the same "impossible jumping" skills that Legolas seems to have in _The Hobbit_ movies. It turns out that he misjudged the size of the gap between the two buildings, and barely makes it across, holding onto the edge of the rooftop with both hands. The Orc captain standing above him tries to swing his axe down and strike him, but Boromir, still holding onto the roof with one hand, uses his other hand to pull out his sword and stab it upwards into the Orc captain, killing him.

However, at the same time, another Orc, in the floor just below, emerges from the window next to Boromir and stabs him.

Boromir, in shock, lets go and falls to the street below.

Boromir is lying on the cobblestone street, injured from both the stab to his abdomen as well as his fall. Several Orcs gather around him. One of them steps forward to deliver the killing blow.

And that's when a Gondorian soldier appears out of nowhere and stabs the Orc in the back, killing him. This soldier then turns and swiftly dispatches the rest of the Orcs around them with a finesse and mastery of the sword that Boromir has rarely, if ever, seen before. Boromir, even in his wounded state, sees all of it and is amazed.

The unknown Gondorian soldier then turns to face Boromir and removes his helmet, and it's revealed that this soldier is none other than _Aragorn_ , the prisoner Boromir had interrogated just last night! Except that Aragorn is now wearing Gondorian armor, truly looking like Isildur's Heir. Aragorn looks at Boromir for a moment, taking a minute to assess how serious his injuries are, and then bends down and heaves Boromir onto him, across his shoulders. And then Aragorn carries him off the battlefield.

* * *

 **Aragorn:**

Boromir is badly wounded, but is being tended to in a hospital tent on the western bank of the Anduin. Meanwhile, although it's nighttime now, the fighting throughout the eastern half of the city continues, with clanging of swords and bloodcurdling battle cries echoing from across the river. The bridge over the Anduin, which was repaired in places, is now clogged with traffic as fresh troops hurry eastwards and little boys lug boxes full of ammunition and supplies, while the tired and exhausted troops rush in the opposite direction, carrying the wounded, either on their shoulders, or else carrying them on makeshift stretchers made from pieces of canvas. A small fleet of boats is feverishly paddling back and forth across the river, trying to relieve some of the traffic burden on the bridge.

The good news is that the second line of defenses, located further within the city, is holding for now. On the open field, a Gondorian swordsman worthy of the name is easily worth 10 regular Orcs; inside the narrow winding alleyways and cramped ruined houses, these advantages are magnified considerably. However, the scouts' reports of all the troops marching into the Mordor camp around the clock shows that the enemy is prepared to play the attrition game with callous disregard for their own mounting losses.

Aragorn is watching all of this from where he's standing, just outside the main hospital tent. He frowns, and then strides inside. There, he takes a seat and watches the Gondor army medic stitching up Boromir's wound; he also notices that the medic is using a mix of traditional medicine and some strange techniques and tools - presumably yet another gift from the Sky-People. Boromir is alive but unconscious.

Just then, Faramir enters the tent, looking all tired and battered and covered in blood (not his blood). Faramir plops down on the chair opposite Aragorn and the two have a chat. About stuff. Faramir remarks that he's grateful to Aragorn for saving his brother, but he's curious as to why he left his companions behind, just like that. Aren't they going to need his help in getting into Mordor? Especially now, since it'll only be a matter of time before Osgiliath is overrun and the Easterlings arrive from the north and the Harad and Umbar forces arrive from the south, and if Aragorn leaves now, even running all the way, he'll only have a limited window of opportunity to catch up to the Fellowship.

Aragorn replies that it was just a gut feeling that here, Gondor, defending his people, was where he belonged, and he's learned one thing over the years to always trust his gut instinct. He casts a glance at Boromir and adds that maybe if he was meant to save Boromir's life, then maybe this is indeed the part he was meant to play. Who knows, maybe destiny (i.e. the writer) decided that the best way Aragorn can help Frodo reach Mt. Doom is by making sure Gondor continues to hold firm and tie up as many of Mordor's forces as possible.

To this, Faramir chuckles and then responds that Aragorn is going to have to do a _lot_ of Orc killing if he alone expects to match up with all the weapons and supplies the Sky-People have given them! Aragorn, in good jest, accepts the challenge. He and Faramir have a friendly drink of Gondorian ale (kept, so he notices, in a new, spotless steel container that keeps the drink exceptionally cold. Aragorn half-jokingly laments that if the Sky-People are capable of devising ingenious ways of keeping beer cold, he dreads to imagine what kind of weapons they are capable of creating).

Just then, Captain Damrod strides in with some important news. The Gondorian Fleet, along with forces from Pelargir and Dol Amroth, have won a major naval victory against the Umbari Corsairs in a sea battle off the coast of Tolfalas. The Umbari brought a considerable number of ships with them; however, thanks to a warning from the Sky-People's magic "eyes in the sky" called "satellites", Gondor was warned about the fleet massing in Umbar, was informed well ahead of time as to the composition and strength of this fleet, and was therefore able to marshal a force to lay in wait off the northern edge of the Island Of Tolfalas. The Umbari are unquestionable masters of nighttime sailing and never suspected that Gondor's fleet to pounce upon them the way they did, let alone attack them with "radiant beams of sunlight and an army of mages casting bolts of burning lead and brimstone" upon them!

Apparently, what had happened was that the Umbari fleet was arranged in a long line, like a snake, winding its way around Tolfalas, and expecting to fall upon Pelargir under the cover of night. Prince Imrahil, with a smaller fleet at hand but highly knowledgeable about the Umbari's forces at hand, massed his fleet like a dagger; as the Umbari "snake" slithered its way past him, Imrahil's "dagger" emerged from behind the island and struck right in the "neck", severing its "head" from the rest of its "body". The "head" was destroyed, and the rest of the "body" routed. Aragorn quips that it's a good thing that the Sky-People's "eyes in the sky" are able to see ships approaching even from hundreds of miles away! Right?

This is encouraging news. However, the bad news is that while the Umbari corsair fleet has been scattered, there's still the question of Umbar's land forces, who are marching overland, together with those of Harad. And then there's the Easterling army diverted south from Dale. And of course there's the rest of Mordor's army approaching Osgiliath from the east...

* * *

 **Frodo:**

Frodo reaches the top of a rock and looks back the way he just came. He and the rest of the Fellowship are somewhere in Ithelien. After escaping Osgiliath, they had taken the boats several more miles down the Anduin, then beached, left the boats, and continued eastwards on foot. And not a moment too soon, Legolas warns him that he can hear something crashing in the distance.

The Fellowship take cover in the trees as they hear the ground shake and a strange trumpeting noise. Frodo observes a magnificent sight: an Oliphant, plodding along its merry way, the ground shaking with every step. It would have been an incredible sight to behold such a beast, were it not for the fact that its back is covered with Haradrim soldiers, flying both the banner of Harad, and the Eye banner of Sauron.

The Oliphant continues plodding on its way north, followed not too far behind by several more. They are followed by the Haradrim regular infantry, thousands of them marching and the Umbar infantry as well. But by the time they show up, the Fellowship is already gone, continuing on its way to Mordor.

* * *

 **Krash & Lunk:**

The battle for control of the east bank of Osgiliath has raged for several days now. Krash furiously paces back and forth across the command tent. The first of the new siege cannons have finally arrived - about a half dozen of them, large constructs of brass and iron, their gaping maws carved in the shape of a snarling wolf (Krash quietly wonders how necessary this little aesthetic touch is, and if it's not, how much faster they could have churned out these guns if they had just skipped out on that). Each gun is so large and heavy that it needs to be disassembled and hauled to the front in several large wagons, each pulled by some of the Great Beasts Of Gorgoroth. However, even the sight of the large, log-sized iron barrel just sitting alone on the wagon looks pretty impressive by itself.

Unfortunately, however, the guns have arrived far too late to have any meaningful impact on the ongoing battle in Osgiliath, seeing as they'll take at least a couple days or so to put together, and even then, he would risk bombarding his own troops! That, and the arrival of the guns means that the siege train will be arriving soon, and with it, the Witch King himself, and the (possibly literal) deadline for taking the east bank.

Lunk shouts out to Krash from atop the lookout tower erected beside the command tent. Lunk is looking through a spyglass. He can see that [random unnamed expendable redshirt captain #559] has taken his assigned precinct; he can see the Eye Of Sauron banner along with the Eleventh Company flag (which, surprise surprise, is just a red "11" on a black background) waving from the top of one of the buildings. Krash nods and looks down at the table with the map on it, and then moves the carved obsidian piece representing the 11th Company to a marked spot on the map. Slowly, house by house, block by block, they are pushing towards the Anduin.

Krash is relieved to know that his tactics seem to be paying off, but knows that even with this progress, they'll be cutting it close, seeing as the Nazgul are expected to arrive any day now. Krash is starting to sweat, feeling under a lot of pressure, knowing that his life could be on the line (and, significantly, this is also where we start seeing Krash question the righteousness of Mordor's cause, although he's probably been harboring doubts for a while now). He decides that it's now or never, and gives the order to commit ALL of their remaining combat-ready reserves into the fray.

As his instructions are passed down the chain-of-command, he debates with himself quietly if he is doing the right thing, knowing that his primary motivation for ordering this all-or-nothing attack is a selfish one (that he and Lunk will be severely punished if they fail to take the city by the time the Witch King arrives). However, he tries to ease his guilt by reminding himself that they are indeed on the cusp of victory, and that whatever it takes to win this war, it must be done.

* * *

 **Aragorn** :

An Orc warrior roars and throws himself at Aragorn. Of course, Strider kills him easily, as well as the Orc after him, and the next one, and the next. Aragorn and four other Gondor swordsmen are holding this street while behind them, a group of First Army sappers are busy at work doing... something. Aragorn is not exactly sure, but Faramir's instructions were firm: protect the sappers while they do their work.

By now, the First Army has been almost pushed back right up to the riverbank; some engineers have begun dismantling the bridge, and now all First Army traffic has to be by boat. The only good news is that with most of the First Army now withdrawn from the east bank, there are far fewer boat-trips that need to be made.

And then, just as they thought things couldn't get any worse, they hear a ghastly shriek echoing through the air, and the sun is blocked out for a moment. Several men clutch their ears in pain. Aragorn looks up and frowns. The Nazgul have arrived.

* * *

 **Krash & Lunk**:

A familiar screeching roar is heard, signaling the arrival of the Witch King Of Angmar (atop his mount, the Fell beast Binky The Terrible). Krash and Lunk hurry out of the command tent, taking a moment to stop and make sure that their clothing and armor looks tidy and organized. Lunk licks his hand and then slicks his hair to the side to try and look good (wait, do Orcs even have hair? Regardless, I thought it was a nice little character trait to give to Lunk).

And then, a moment later, Binky The Terrible plonks down on the ground right in front of them (in the process, crushing one of the guards who was standing a little too close, but ah well, who cares? The other ceremonial guards standing at attention are a little shaken by this and debate whether to help their fallen comrade before deciding that whatever happened to him is probably better than whatever Ol' Angmar is gonna do to anyone who steps outta line...).

The Witch-King himself dismounts from his beast, terrible armor clinking along the ground like ice. One of the guardsmen steps forward and then kneels down before the Witch-King; the Lord Of The Nazgul hands him the reins to Binky. The guardsman bows, takes the reins of Binky, and this is about to lead the great beast over to the feeding pens when all of a sudden, she snaps at him and crushes him in his jaws. The Witch-King shakes his head, and then calls for another. Another soldier strides up to the Witch-King and bows; the Witch-King hands over to him a rather foreboding and voluminous tome, _How To Train Your Fell Beast_ (remember that book from many, many chapters back?), and gives him a few pointers on how to handle these creatures ("oh do be careful; they have a habit of making dinner of anyone who mishandles them in the slightest").

The Witch-King then turns to face Krash and Lunk.

* * *

 **Aragorn** :

Aragorn watches as the First Army troops retreat across the Anduin River, knowing that the east bank of the city is lost. He and Boromir are among the last to retreat (even in his injured state, Boromir has recovered enough somewhat that he insisted that he be brought back to the east bank on one of the last boats, even if all he can do is just sit in the boat).

Aragorn rushes down to the waterfront, leaps over the pier, and lands onto Boromir's boat. The soldiers on it push off immediately and start rowing to get away as quickly as possible. And not a moment too soon, no sooner have the last few boats shoved off, when Aragorn looks up and sees dozens of Orcs emerge from the streets and buildings facing the waterfront. By the time the boats are halfway across the river, the pier is covered with them.

Aragorn feels dismayed, knowing that this was supposed to be his return to his people, and his first battle ends in a failure. Boromir remarks that, against his father's wishes, he had the sappers lay a final surprise for the Orcs. He holds up a strange boxlike device, made of simple unpainted steel, but with a big red button on it. He presses the button.

* * *

 **Krash & Lunk**:

The Gondorian forces are in full retreat back across the Anduin River, and the Orcs have nearly captured the entire city. Krash and Lunk are beside themselves with joy. The Witch-King himself, in a rare show of magnanimity on his part, congratulates the two of them on their victory. His faith in them was well placed after all.

That's when they hear a rumble in the distance. And then another one. And then another, louder, like rolling thunder. And then the very ground they stand upon shakes, and when they look to see the source of this commotion, they see black clouds of smoke and flame shooting up all over Osgiliath. Even Binky and one of the other Fell Beasts roars out in panic, surprised by the sound, and thrash about, throwing several of their handlers about like ragdolls. In the sky above them, one of the other Nazgul falls off his mount when the Fell Beast panics from the great rumble (remember folks: Fell Beasts are scary and awesome, but they're still only animals, so they can be disturbed by strange noises).

The entire city of Osgiliath (or at least the _eastern half_ thereof) EXPLODES into flame and smoke; it turns out that the First Army Of Gondor had laid large caches of their explosive powder all around the city in the event that this would happen.

Krash and Lunk realize they've just lost a huge part of their army in the explosion, and the Witch-King (who's standing right there with them) is probably not going to be very pleased about this at all. Yeah, Krash and Lunk are pretty much in deep shit now.


	70. Battle Report 8 & 9

**AFTER ACTION REPORT:**  
 **The Battle Of Tolfalas**

 **§1. Date :** Day 230

 **§2. Location :**

Off the northeastern coast of the Island Of Tolfalas, Bay Of Belfalas, Sea Of Belegaer.

 **§3. Participants:**

The Kingdom Of Gondor

Corsairs Of Umbar

 **§4. Outcome:**

Decisive Gondor victory; Umbari fleet routed, Gondor rules the waves.

 **§5. Order Of Battle:**

 ** _§5.1. The Kingdom Of Gondor:_**

100 ships

Approx. 10,000 men (100 men per ship) (Note: this represents an average, as the fleet represents a mix of larger and smaller vessels)

Commander: Prince Imrahil Of Dol Amroth

 ** _§5.2. Corsairs Of Umbar:_**

300 ships

Approx. 30,000 men (100 per ship) (Note: as stated above, this represents an average)

Commander: unknown; presumably a council of several Corsair lords.

 **§6. Prelude:**

Umbar is a large bay area located well to the south of Gondor, adjacent to the region known as "Harad". The history of this area, at least according to the Minas Tirith archives, is punctuated by periods when Gondor held sovereignty over this area, and other periods where it didn't. Regardless, at least for the present, it appears that Umbar has aligned itself with the State Of Mordor and the individual known as Lord Sauron.

At the present moment, Umbar does not seem to be a single organized city state, but rather more like a lawless "free city" where various raider and pirate lords convene. A large settlement and market area has since grown up in the cove - a pirate haven if you will, rather like the Island Of Tortuga, Haiti, was during our own history's Golden Age Of Piracy in the 1600's to 1700's. Much like what Saruman did for the Dunland natives, however, it appears that Sauron's influence has managed to unify these brigands under a single banner.

At Gondor's behest, our satellites have been keeping an eye Umbar for a while now. Over the last few months, we have witnessed the amassing of a large fleet in the cove together with other preparations indicating that Umbar was gearing up for war. We notified our allies in Minas Tirith of this, who responded by commanding all of Gondor's coastal fiefdoms, particularly the cities of Pelargir and Dol Amroth, to begin marshaling a navy. Boromir also made the decision to divert some of the materiel and trained men he had been raising in Minas Tirith down to the south to aid the fleet.

The distance between Umbar and the mouth of the Anduin River is approx. 500 miles (800km) as the crow flies (although the actual sea route would be longer due to the coastal geography, currents, prevailing wind conditions, etc.); in optimal conditions, a large fleet would take at least 10 days to make the voyage. This gave Gondor ample warning of their arrival.

 **§7. Course Of Battle:**

The Umbari fleet was laid out in a long line, ships spread out in a rough "snake" formation, some four nautical miles in length. The "head" of this snake was were most of the combat ready ships were concentrated, as they would be the ones to hit Pelargir first. The rest of the "body" and "tail" of this formation were not expected to enter into combat, and were instead being used primarily as support and transport vessels.

Prince Imrahil deployed his fleet in a "fishhook" formation, a rough "U"-shape facing east with one prong (the southern one) longer than the other (the northern prong).

The Corsairs Of Umbar are not a single unified government in and to themselves, and so they do not really possess a proper "navy" but rather a collection of different pirate lords. As a result, their fleet does not possess a single standardized warship design; every new ship is custom built from the keel up and usually reflects factors like the individual needs and/or tastes of the pirate lord commissioning the vessel, as well as other factors like whatever raw materials are available at the time. However, over the centuries, these shipbuilders appear to have settled on a general design - a low galley with between two and three junk-rigs. The average corsair ship tends to be built to be light, with an emphasis on speed as well as a low draught (for easier use in rivers), as befitting a raider culture. Average crew sizes number between 40 and 100 men; transportation capacity aboard these ships is limited, but in general, the sailors of the vessel double as its combatants. These ships are lightly armed, as the corsairs' preferred tactic revolves around boarding.

In contrast to Umbar, the Navy of Gondor prefers to use a standardized ship design, which can be best described as being similar to Renaissance Era "dromon"-type galleys. These ships are sturdy, well built, and large enough to accommodate a large crew of sailors, rowers, and marines. However, in preparation for this battle, the Kingdom also undertook to have many civilian vessels, including fishing boats and trading ships, commandeered into their navy. The Gondor fleet ended up resembling a hodge-podge of different vessel types and classes, with at least as many repurposed fishing and trade ships as actual warships. Unlike the Corsairs, however, Gondor's proper purpose-built warships are usually heavily armed with catapults and ballistae. In addition to those, for weeks now, the First Army Of Gondor had anticipated a need to increase defenses along Gondor's coasts, and so had dispatched several cannons, 4 searchlights, and a shipment of simple rockets, as well as a company of riflemen.

As the corsair fleet snaked it way around the east coast of the island and past the northern tip, the Gondorian fleet rowed out from their hiding spot, a cove on the northwestern coast of the island. When they were close enough, the fleet opened fire with a mix of cannon, rocket, catapult, ballista, rifle, and arrow fire.

 _ **Fig. 1.**_ _Simple gunpowder rocket artillery, based heavily on Congreve Rockets, are primitive and highly inaccurate devices, though effective at providing illumination and psychological warfare._

The single greatest factor in Gondor's favor here was the element of surprise, as the corsairs had not been expecting such a large and well-coordinated resistance, especially at night. However, the effects of their new toys are not to be discounted. The searchlights, one mounted on each of the four leading heavy warships, were used to illuminate the Corsair fleet and make it easier to spot targets in the darkness. These lights had the added benefit of dazzling and disorientating and helping spreading panic among the Corsairs, if the rockets red glare, and the bombs bursting in air, weren't enough already.

Because the Corsairs were spread out in a thin line, no more than two or three ships sailing abreast (if at all), it was easy for the "southern prong" of Imrahil's formation to punch through the "neck" of the fleet, quickly separating the "head" from the rest of the "body". The "northern prong" slammed into the flank of the Corsair "head", further rending it apart. While the "head" was where all the combat-ready ships and crews were located, the mix of surprise, lethal firepower, and panic among the unruly and poorly disciplined pirates decisively turned the tides to Gondor's advantage. Out of about 90 ships that made up the "head" of this formation, 35 were sunk or set aflame, 22 were stormed and captured by Gondorian marines, and the remaining 30 managed to get away. Of the remaining 210 ships that were following them and that made up the rest of the Corsairs' forces, another 7 were destroyed, another 3 captured, and the rest routed.

 **§8. Casualties:**

 ** _§8.1. Kingdom Of Gondor:_**

4 ships sunk

11 ships damaged

Unknown personnel losses

 ** _§8.2. Corsairs Of Umbar:_**

42 ships sunk

25 ships captured

Personnel losses difficult to calculate; approx. 2,000 captured.

 **§9. Aftermath:**

This battle represents a major loss to Umbar's war effort both in terms of manpower, materiel, and loss of important leaders. While our satellite observations have given us a good handle on exact numbers of ships sunk or captured, at this moment, it is difficult to tabulate an exact figure as to the exact losses of naval personnel for both fleets. However, it may be fair to assume that most of the crews of the sunken Umbari vessels drowned, whereas Gondorian sailors were in a far better position to be rescued. Based on our observations as well as Prince Imrahil's report to Minas Tirith, it would appear that they have captured at least 2,000 Corsairs (Note: for purposes of record-keeping, we are considering any Umbari slaves liberated from the galleys among the "captured").

The decimation of Umbar's sea power will no doubt aid greatly in improving the strategic outlook for Gondor, and if nothing else, will certainly help raise morale. On the other hand, we have spotted additional Umbar forces as well as other Harad forces marching into Gondor overland. Their current route is along a road that will bypass Pelargir entirely and take them straight to Minas Tirith. If these forces, in conjunction with the ones from Mordor and Rhun, prove too much for the First Army Of Gondor to handle, we may be forced to intervene directly in the defense of Minas Tirith. Dir. Teller is in talks right now with Sgt. Rico and Insp. Lynn regarding what will be the best strategy and tactics concerning our direct involvement in this affair.

* * *

 **To Whom It May Concern:**

As we had anticipated in yesterday's report, Osgiliath has finally fallen today. As we had prior instructed him, General Boromir today initiated Hammerdown Protocol as they withdrew, and the results, detailed in our attached report, were as expected. He was understandably reluctant to carry through with the destruction of Gondor's old capital (or at least half of it), but at least he seems content with the massive bite we've just taken out of Mordor's army. Now comes the part of explaining this to his father, whom we doubt will be as understanding of the necessity of our actions here today.

The report attached to this email covers today's events; it also contains several corrections we have made to the cumulative report we have been compiling over the last few days, as well as a final tally of casualties.

Best regards,  
[REDACTED]

 **AFTER ACTION REPORT:**  
 **Defense Of Osgiliath - Day 6**

 _*NOTE: §1 thru 5 + Fig. 1 below represent corrections, additions, and/or other edits we would like to make to our previous report, last updated 2205hr, Day 233._

 **§1. Date:** began Day 229; concluded Day 234.

 **§2. Location:** Ruined City Of Osgiliath, Anduin River Valley, Kingdom Of Gondor.

 **§3. Participants:**

Kingdom Of Gondor

Forces aligned with Lord Sauron (primarily Mordor and Rhun) (Note: we are unable to discern at this time what role may have been played in this particular engagement by Sauron's other allies, such as Khand, Umbar, and Harad).

 **§4. Outcome:**

Strategic Mordor victory: east bank of Anduin captured and secured in spite of heavy losses.

Tactical Gondor victory: heavy losses inflicted on Mordor army; majority of First Army safely withdrawn to the west bank.

 **§5. Order Of Battle:**

 ** _§5.1. First Army Of Gondor:_**

20,000 men 100 cannons

 **Commanders** :

General Boromir

Capt. Faramir

Capt. Aragorn (see Footnote [1])

 ** _§5.2. Mordor + Allies:_**

Approx. 320,000 Orcs (total), 100 Easterlings.

 **Commanders** :

The Witch-King Of Angmar (see Footnote [2])

Commander Krash (see Footnote [3])

Commander Lunk (see Footnote [3])

Prince Azahmat, Son Of Shahpur (see Footnote [4])

 **Fig. 1.:** **[Updated] Map of the (former) City Of Osgiliath**. Centuries of war, weathering, abandonment, and lack of maintenance have caused most of the city's buildings, roadways, walls, and bridges to fall into disrepair, although some of these structures were still usable.

(1) The "Lant Ciryaher" Bridge was repaired and strengthened in places, albeit with these rebuilt sections being made primarily out of wood and with intent that they be easy to dismantle. In its golden days, the two halves of the city were connected by four bridges: Lant Sollen, Breithon, Romendacil, and Ciryaher. Only Ciryaher was repaired, and the ruins of the other three were further dismantled in order to prevent Mordor from repairing and using them.

(2) The eastern curtain wall was not fully repaired due to lack of time and resources; rather, the wall was integrated into the defensive barricade.

(3) The more structurally stable stone buildings were converted into strongpoints, as watchtowers, artillery positions, bunkers, field hospitals, or as components of the secondary and tertiary defense lines. Wooden plank bridges and scaffolds were erected connecting one rooftop to another, in order to create a single unified "high ground".

(4) Some of the narrow winding alleyways and side streets were cleared of rubble in order to provide clear lines-of-sight for Gondorian defenders and also allow less restricted movement of Gondorian soldiers through them. Conversely, most of this rubble and debris was dumped into the wider streets and avenues. The purpose of this was to barricade/block off these wider streets (the most obvious points of attack) and funnel any attacking force into the narrower and more cramped side streets.

(5) The Island of Tol Gilthoniel was the final holdout. However, centuries of deposition of silt without any dredging has caused the river port's depth to drop low enough in places for attacking forces to wade across (although use of searchlights and mixed rifle and archer fire made said ordeal a costly one).

 **§6. Course Of Battle:**

By the morning of the sixth day of the siege, Orcish forces had managed to cross the old harbor and reach Tol Gilthoniel in several places, although defenses around the island stubbornly held on. By mid-morning, Capt. Faramir successfully led a sortie to rescue Capt. Orvald and his company, the last hold-out in the southeastern Helluin Quarter. Unfortunately, a similar attempt to recover Capt. Argus' company failed. We now know that Capt. Argus was KIA the previous night, and that the five remaining men in his company escaped by swimming the river.

To his credit, in spite of his injuries, Gen. Boromir was adamant that he remain on Tol Gilthoniel right down to the last minute, and so it was he who oversaw the demolition of the eastern gatehouse to the bridge. With the bridge now cut, the only remaining means of crossing the Anduin was either by raft, boat, or swimming, as indeed many soldiers did as such. By noon local time, all of the wounded had been evacuated, and the process of withdrawing all of the remaining troops on the island began.

Around this time, Mordor's siege train (whom we have been observing on the move now for several days) finally arrived at the main Mordor camp, although the sheer size of the several 280mm bombard cannons ensures that they will take some time to assemble, negating their use in this battle. However, their arrival appears to have motivated Commanders Krash and Lunk into expediting the capture of the east bank, as we observed the mobilization of all available reserves shortly afterwards. This would mean that the east bank would be full of many more Orcish troops than we had anticipated when we first proposed Hammerdown Protocol to Gen. Boromir.

Fighting continued throughout the afternoon, although the push from all the reserves arriving behind them seems to have emboldened and reinvigorated the assault on the island. With fewer than 300 men now left on the island, the Orcs were able to quickly push and gain ground, leaving the plaza by the rotunda as the last holdout. There, Capt. Aragorn continued to participate actively in holding off repeated Orc attacks left and right, until nearly every last soldier was withdrawn. Then, he himself finally pulled back to the quays, and then to Gen. Boromir's waiting boat. Not a minute too soon, the island was overrun with Orcs.

At approx. 1700hr local time, Gen. Boromir, satisfied that every possible soldier had been withdrawn, initiated Hammerdown Protocol with the remote detonator we had entrusted to him. In total, some 120,000kg of TRZX-800 heavy duty mining explosives (see Footnote [5]), carefully hidden in select locations throughout the east bank, were detonated in the best sequence that our computer models showed would amplify the shockwave generated by the thermobaric explosions.

 **§7. Casualties:**

 ** _§7.1. First Army Of Gondor: 4,200 total_**

350 KIA (Day 6); 1,500 KIA (cumulative).

180 WIA (Day 6); 1,600 WIA (cumulative).

100 MIA (Day 6); 1,100 MIA (cumulative).

 ** _§7.2. Forces Of Sauron: 120,000 total_**

Estimated to be approx. 70,000 KIA, WIA, or MIA (Day 6 - mainly from Hammerdown Protocol); 120,000 (cumulative).

 **§8. Aftermath:**

Although this battle is now over, we do not anticipate any major edits to the conclusions we have drawn up Day 5's report. However, the following do represent updates we would like to make.

On one hand, Gondor was able to successfully hold the city for 6 days against a vastly numerically superior enemy force, inflict heavy losses on said enemy, and then, once it was clear that their position had become untenable, fall back with most of their army intact. The vast majority of Gondor's casualties fell among the sword and melee infantry, spread out over 5 days of grueling urban combat, while the more valuable rifle and artillery forces were withdrawn largely intact after Day 2. On the other hand, however, the losses inflicted on Mordor's host as yet represent only a fraction of their total committed forces to this campaign, and after today's events, we do not believe that Sauron or any of his subordinates will fall for the same trick twice.

On a positive note, the demolition of the bridges will likely represent a major setback for the Mordorian army. Without them intact, they will instead have to rely on rafts and/or boats to ferry their troops, supplies, and materiel (particularly their siege equipment) across the Anduin. Alternatively, they may have to divert forces northwards to seize the crossing point at Cair Andros, located some 64km / 40mi north of Osgiliath. Either way, we expect that this traffic bottleneck will cause considerable delay, buying precious time for Gondor and her allies to regroup and prepare for the next major engagement.

Insp. Lynn and Dir. Teller and Cheong will be flying to Minas Tirith tomorrow to monitor the situation there. I can only imagine how they're ever going to explain to Mr. Denethor just why exactly did the kingdom's old capital have to be destroyed before the UNCDF is finally authorized to intervene.

 **Footnotes:**

 **[1] "Aragorn, Son Of Arathorn"** \- we are as yet still unsure as to the exact origins of this individual. Sightings of this individual first surfaced on the evening of Day 230, when it was reported that he was the one who had rescued Gen. Boromir and evacuated him to the west bank of the Anduin. Based on photographs taken of him in a Gondorian military uniform, he appears to be a Gondorian soldier, although we have found no records of him in the First Army. Regardless, he appears to have climbed through the ranks rapidly, taking up a position of _de facto_ co-command with Faramir. We must investigate this individual further. ***EDIT*** : upon a re-examination of the Minas Tirith archives, we have located several individuals by the name of "Arathorn", most notably and recently, one holding the title "Chieftain Of The Dunedain" (a tribe of rangers, trappers, and hunters native to the Region Of Eriador). If Mr. Aragorn is indeed the son of this individual, and if the records are correct, that would also make him a distant relation (indeed, one of the last living ones) to the old Royal Family Of Gondor. I can begin to understand Gen. Boromir's interest in this individual.

 **[2] "The Witch King Of Angmar"** \- remote observations have confirmed that the individual known as the "Witch-King Of Angmar" is a Necro-Hominid due to the advanced mutagenic effects of a highly thaumic artifact known as a "Ring Of Power", and who possesses considerable thaumic potential himself. While we have yet to get a thaumometer out in the field for an accurate reading, remote observations place him at possibly a Rank 10 or higher. ***WARNING*** : this individual is determined to be EXTREMELY DANGEROUS due to his high thaumic potential.

 **[3] "Commanders Krash And Lunk"** \- according to interrogations of several captured enemies conducted by our allies, we have learned that while the Witch-King is the overall commander of this campaign, actual field command of the army assaulting the city was carried out by two high-ranking Orc commanders by the names of Krash and Lunk. Little else is known about these two individuals at this time. However, based on the awe and admiration expressed by several of these prisoners, we believe that the individuals identified as Mr. Krash and Lunk are also extremely competent, capable, ruthless, and therefore dangerous military commanders.

 **[4] "Prince Azahmat"** \- the same prisoners mentioned in **Footnote[3]** above identified the Easterling leader as one "Prince Azahmat, Son Of Shahpur The Great". However, we are unable to determine as yet _which_ son he is, as our available records indicate that King Shahpur of Rhun seems to be rather prolific on the fatherhood front. It also appears that another of Shahpur's sons is commanding the northern Easterling army diverted south from Dale.

 **[5] Hammerdown Protocol** : our simulations had shown that we would need at least five times the ordnance we had previously employed at the Battle Of Crimson Equinox, (please consult separate report on this particular incident), to generate the desired effects. Because we did not trust that Gondor's sappers would place the devices in as exact positions as we had instructed, and also to account for the off-chance that the Orcs might find and tamper with one of the devices, we therefore scaled up to eight times what we employed at Crimson EquinoX. The actual mixture we used this time is inert and safe to handle until the remote detonator is armed, which is why we trusted our native allies to handle the devices.


	71. The Event Horizon

_**Writer's Notes:** this is the final "prose chapter" that was written for Event Horizon Book 2  & 3; from here until the end, it will all be "synopsis chapters"._

* * *

 **The Event Horizon**

 **Lucifer Station**  
 **In Orbit over Planet EE-7**

In space, there isn't really a traditional "day/night cycle", so instead the "working day" was organized around 8-hour shifts, with two of the shifts demarcated as "day shifts" (the "morning" and "afternoon" ones) and the third one designated as the "night shift". Standard practice among the UNCDF and The Company™ was to split the crew into thirds – that way, a full crew would always be active no matter what time it was, and they would also save up on bedding space by assigning three crewmates to a single bunk.

There were some situations, though, where said practice wasn't followed, for whatever reason, and Lucifer Station was one of them. At least for Lucifer, the main reason was technical: such was the raw power and furor of the station's mass driver that an 8-hour cooldown period was a must after every couple dozen shots or so. It would also have been impossible for anyone aboard to get some decent shuteye if the mass driver was kept running around the clock.

The other reason was that with a permanent on-station crew of only seven, it made more sense that everyone just work the same shift than split up – that, and Chief Engineer Rafael Mondragon also figured that it was better for morale that everyone dine together at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And especially today, since they would be welcoming several new additions to their motley little company out here on the frontier.

"Welcome to Lucifer, Rich," began Rafa, taking a seat at the dining table, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. "It ain't much, but it's home. Hey, I've been posted out here since Christmas and I've turned out alright so far."

"I appreciate the hospitality but don't worry, I won't be staying too long this time," replied Dr. Richard Garrett, seated across the table from him. Instead of his usual white lab coat and tie, he was still dressed in a utility flightsuit and looking weary after having spent the last few days on the supply Valk. He and two of his assistants from CERT, as well as two more transfer crewmen, had arrived just a few hours earlier and were settling themselves in the (already cramped) sleeping quarters. The good news was that Garrett and his people would be heading off back to L-Zero once their job here was done, and they would be taking Engineers Grady and Burns with them (Rafa himself still had another month to go before he'd finally be rotated out as well).

"What brings you out here anyway?" spoke up Engineer Jackson, from across the table. "You're not worried about leaving your work behind for a couple weeks?"

"Things at CERT are fine, progressing on schedule," replied Garrett, refilling his mug from the coffee pot in the middle of the table, "I trust that Dr. Savage and Hyneman have it all, ahem, under control. As for bioscience – well, you've all heard by now of the progress that Mertesacker and co have been making these last few days. Thanks in no small part to Mr. Oakhurst."

"For sure," replied Rafa. "Luke's a good kid. Though I don't blame him for having wanted a transfer back to planetside, even if it pays less."

"Yeah, but why are you here?" pressed Jackson.

"Well, I thought it was important that I come out here to oversee our work on this _trans-dimensional singularity_ for myself."

"Sorry, what?" said Engineer Doris Grady. She looked confused.

"I think he's referring to the 'Eye Of Terror'," quipped Engineer Brent Stuckman, who was seated right to the left of Grady.

"So, like a wormhole?" chimed in Jackson, "like the exact same shit that our Trans-Light Drives work off of?"

"Yes and no," replied Dr. Garrett, "it's a little difficult to explain."

"Try us, doctor," shot Stuckman.

"Right," said Garrett, "I'll try to simplify this as much as I can." He turned and noticed that the cubicle closest to the dining area had several pin-up girl posters hanging up in it (mostly Humans in poses and clothes that left very little to the imagination, but also at least one cat-person and one Arcturian female with a rather nice set of you-know-what as well. This was Jackson's little workstation and, ahem, "privacy corner"). Garrett stood up, walked over, and pulled one of the posters off. He then returned to the table. "Imagine if this piece of paper…" he began.

"Uh, excuse me," barged in Jackson, slightly annoyed, "that's Vanessa, and she's _mine_."

"Okay," replied Richard, nonchalantly, as he continued, "imagine if this rather _attractive_ piece of paper represents spacetime. Our universe, life, the laws of physics as we know them, _everything_."

Jackson didn't look amused, though the rest of the party seated around the table did. Engineer Burns, who had been quiet 'til now, spoke up: "and the other side?"

Garrett turned over the poster. While "Vanessa" and her sultry undraped form graced one side of the poster, the other side was covered in… an ad for Cerberus™ Plutonian Vodka, 100 Proof (with a hint of radon-222 added for extra zest and glow – yeah, ironically, there was no plutonium in a liqueur brewed on Pluto).

Garrett continued: "this, ladies and gentlemen, represents the Dark Universe."

"The _Dark Universe_?" remarked Stuckman, raising an eyebrow. "Please tell me you didn't come up with that name yourself."

"I personally prefer 'Anteverse' myself," replied Garrett, reproachfully, "but marketing insisted on naming this new scientific discovery something catchy. And, I suppose, it's a good way of illustrating to the lay observer that we're dealing with the fundamentally unknown."

"So, _hyperspace_ , right?" muttered Grady, "look, we've all had this lecture before. It's kind of mandatory before embarking on any interstellar voyage."

"Close but not quite right, Ms. Grady," said Garrett, "our Tachyon Shunt Trans-Light Drives and Trans-Light Communication Devices do work by circumventing some of the limitations of 3-dimensional space, but they still work very much within the confines of our universe. The 'Dark Universe' is an entirely separate reality altogether."

"I'm not sure I'm quite getting what you mean," remarked Engineer Burns.

"The Dark Universe is a realm that exists parallel to ours," continued Garrett. "It's similar to our material universe, and yet so different at the same time. It obeys its own laws, its own foundations very different from our own. This is where, we believe, all 'magic', all thaumic energy, all supernatural beings – spirits and deities if you will – all originate from. Perhaps even _life itself_."

He then took a pen out of his pocket, and jabbed it right into Vanessa's navel, punching a hole clean through the poster (and much to Jackson's visible chagrin). He continued: "and sometimes, for whatever reason, there exists holes in our universe, tears in the spacetime continuum that allow for a direct point-of-access to this new realm.

"Ah, but see here: the door swings both ways: their universe leaks into ours, creating areas in our world where reality is warped, where the normal laws of physics do not apply – magic, if you will. And at the same time, our universe is also slowly leaking into theirs, creating small pockets of order and reality in this realm, small islands of relative placidity amid otherwise turbulent raging seas of chaos. Their 'magic' can exist in small places in our universe, and our 'reality' can exist in small places in theirs."

"And by 'they', you're talking about… uh, this so-called 'Chaos'?" asked Burns.

"Chaos (with a capital 'C') is the term used by the natives of L-Zero to refer to four specific entities and their influence," explained Garrett. "And from what we have gathered, they are certainly powerful, though they are also not the only denizens of this realm. There do exist other entities as well, other beings that I suppose could be called 'chaos beings' (albeit, with a small 'c'). A study of the native cultures across all planets in the system has led us to believe that all of the deities and super-beings worshiped by them may be energy beings that originated in this parallel dimension."

"So you're telling me that this planet right here is a… a portal or something?" asked Jackson.

"Possibly," explained Garrett, "as of yet, we've officially identified five such singularities – one at each pole of both planets EE-L0 and L3, and one on the moon EE-L0-M2. We believe that further singularities may exist throughout the system, including possible one within the core of the star of Epsilon Eridani itself."

"And the one on this planet," said Stuckman, "is that why you're commandeering use of the mass driver tomorrow?"

"Yeah, what exactly is in those containers you brought with you?" asked Grady.

"Probes mostly," replied Garrett, curtly. "Since it's far too dangerous to approach the Eye Of Terror directly, we felt it was better to instead launch these probes at the anomaly from a safe distance. I designed and built these probes, I figured that I should be the one to supervise their launch."

"Uh-huh. And what kind of probes are we talking here?" asked Rafa, narrowing his eyes. "What are we trying to learn anyway, and how? And do you even think they're gonna work? I thought that high thaumic energy can short out their circuits or something."

"Sorry, but that's all on a need-to-know basis," replied Garrett, flatly. For a moment, he and Rafa glared at one another.

And then, all of a sudden, their standoff was interrupted by the buzzing of an alarm, and a red light flashing.

"What's that?" said Garrett, taken aback by this, "that's not normal, is it?"

"Shit, we've got a priority message!" barked Jackson, standing up.

"Priority message?" said Garrett, "from who?"

"Sorry, Doc, that's on a _need-to-know_ basis," retorted Rafa, smirking slightly. And then he quickly stood up from his seat, and pulled a card and pen out of his pocket. Garrett noticed that the rest of Lucifer Station's crew were doing the same.

A moment later, the intercom buzzed to life. The voice was unfamiliar, flat and obviously digitally synthesized so as to mask the identity of its originator. It began: "Skybird. This is dropkick with a red dash alpha message in two parts. Break. Break." By then, Rafa and his six other crewmates were ready and waiting to jot down whatever came next. The intercom continued: "Red dash alpha. Break. Break. Romeo. Oscar. Mike. Golf. Whisky. Tango. Foxtrot. Five. Five. Three. Seven. Eight. Zero. Zero. Eight."

"I have a valid message," barked Rafa, "standby to authenticate!"

Abruptly, Rafa and his six other crewmates all stood up from their seats, and held out their cards so that they could inspect and double-check what each of them had written. All seven cards had the same code written upon them.

 **ROMG-WTF-55378008**

"Authentication confirmed," barked Jackson.

"Standby, delivery coordinates will be beamed to us momentarily," barked Rafa, "alright folks, you know the drill! Chop chop!" At his command, his crewmates left the dining table and immediately made their way to their stations, leaving the professor and the other new arrivals at the table, quite bewildered.

"What the hell's going on?" demanded Garrett, getting up from the table and following them into the control room.

"Pssst," muttered Grady from her station, right across from Jackson's, "it's a special delivery."

"Special… what?" remarked Garrett.

"Means we're being ordered to send a little something extra out on one of the next shipments," replied Grady, "look, even I don't know what it is. It's all automated, we're just here as a security measure, supervise the launch, make sure it goes smoothly. But I got my suspicions."

Dr. Garrett frowned. Whatever the hell was going on, he certainly didn't appreciate being kept in the dark about it; he would certainly have a thing or two to say to Directors Django and Teller once he got back.

* * *

 **Somewhere else...**

 _"_ _Directors Lombardi and Saito aren't exactly pleased that we're pushing ahead with the launch. Especially not with Dr. Garrett and the shuttle crew out there either. While I don't doubt Dr. Garrett's loyalty, nevertheless it should be stressed that every additional non-essential person present on Lucifer increases the chances of a security breach."_

 _"_ _I understand, brother. But Director Teller felt we have no choice. I've run the simulations and this is the best available window of opportunity we have to go ahead. The planet won't be in the right position for a precision delivery again for a fortnight, and by then it may be far too late."_

 _"As much as I trust your runtimes, I want to make sure that we have considered all other options."_

 _"_ _Affirmative, brother. Based on UNCDF security protocols, I won't be able to bring one with me unnoticed. The mass driver is the only option we have for getting it where it's needed with as little notice as possible. But worry not, I'll be there to receive the package when it arrives, and ensure it gets delivered onwards to its final destination."_


	72. In Sheep's Clothing

_**Writer's Notes:** synopsis chapter._

* * *

 **In Sheep's Clothing**

 **Jonathan** :

A Falcon shuttle approaches Minas Tirith, preparing for landing. Ever since the establishment of regular trade and contact between Gondor and The Company™, Denethor has allowed The Company™ to use the citadel's courtyard area as a landing zone, though Jonathan Teller still reminisces about the first time they came to Minas Tirith, when they had to land outside the city and approach on foot - he still recalls how beautiful the city and surrounding countryside looked.

Now, however, the city still looks magnificent, but Jonathan regrets to see the countryside all around it has been ruined by the war. In particular, a huge plume of smoke is seen rising up from Osgiliath; the old ruins are still burning and smoldering even though it's been a few days since the entire eastern half of the city was blown sky-high with tons of mining explosives by the Gondorian army covering its retreat across the Anduin.

The Falcon lands, the doors open, and Jonathan Teller, Angela Cheong, VIDI, and Christopher Tremblay disembark. They have arrived in Minas Tirith to help Gondor prepare for the final battle. Teller looks at the _massive_ Mordorian army gathering on the other side of the river; even with the scorched earth tactic they pulled off at Osgiliath which resulted in the deaths of tens of thousands of Orcs, Mordor is still able to field _hundreds of thousands_ of troops for the upcoming battle. Not only have more Orcs from Mordor arrived, but they have been joined by Easterlings from Rhun, Variags from Khand, and Umbari and Haradrim forces from the south.

Inspector Steve Lynn had assured Teller that he is pulling all the strings he possibly can to get the requisite authorizations for the UN to intervene on Gondor's behalf. Teller, though, knows from experience that sometimes it's better to skirt official protocol and bureaucracy. With that, Teller turns to VIDI; she looks at him and nods, and then breaks away from them, leaps over the edge, and disappears - it seems that Teller has a secret task for her, and that the look he gave her was her signal to go...

* * *

 **Dominic** :

When last we saw Dominic Kobori and Ellen Kovacs, they were brought to the Tokyo base of the elusive "Technology Energy Conglomerate" (TEC), a secretive organization that's part research think-tank, part evil corporation, and part weird techno-cult (yeah, I'm not even going to hide it anymore; they're basically the Adeptus Mechanicus in this universe, and the being they worship is, in fact, the Void Dragon). Earlier that evening, Dom and Ellen had discovered that Dom's boss and head of SEAGA Games & Entertainment, Mr. Fukushitsu, is a mole working for an as-yet unidentified enemy of The Company™. Mr. Fukushitsu learned of Dom's and Ellen's eavesdropping on him, and retaliated by sending a pair of robot assassins to take out Dom and Ellen (older model Nexus-6 instead of the newer, and deadlier, Nexus-8). These assassins were thwarted by the intervention of "Nobunaga", a "MITA-series" android sent by TEC to help them, and who then brought them to TEC's base to meet Dr. Varna Speer (known by his codename "Kobayashi"), who is one of the secretive leaders of TEC. For all their enigmatic ways, TEC seems to be wanting to help The Company™ find out who the traitor on the Epsilon Eridani expedition is, though perhaps because it serves their own agenda in some capacity. Dom and Ellen agree to help TEC... for now. Here's what happens next.

Dominic emerges from out of a secret tunnel entrance, out onto a dockside in Tokyo Harbor. In front of them, the massive form of Shimizu-3 Pyramid rises out from Tokyo Harbor. Somewhere in that building is their target. Dominic is a little uncomfortable about this whole operation, but he knows they have to move quickly; back in TEC's secret lair, Kobayashi had informed them that Mr. Fukushitsu has learned that his cover is blown, and is now moving to destroy valuable data and also sabotage the operations of SEAGA and several other Company™ ventures in order to cover his retreat.

Dom notices that it's still nighttime, though the eastern horizon has begun to lighten up a little. Just behind him emerges Ellen Kovacs, as well as their new, ahem, "friend" Nobunaga, the MITA Unit. Also, all three of them are dressed up in special black full-body suits for this stealth mission. Nobunaga is carrying a large duffel bag that contains the special vehicles they're going to use to infiltrate Block 38 (and I'm undecided as to whether it should be hover-boards, jetpacks, or rocket boots. For purposes of the rest of this chapter, let's just go with hover-boards).

Nobunaga gets to work unpacking and assembling the hover-boards; meanwhile, Ellen uses her special spy-gadget-equipped MyPhone to try to send an urgent message out. Dom asks whom she's sending it to, and Ellen responds that there is one other person she knows out on the EE System who can help them.

* * *

 **Angela** :

Angela Cheong is in Minas Tirith, as she accompanied Dir. Jonathan Teller on this important mission. They enter the throne room.

Boromir, wounded but at least on his feet, arrives accompanied by a stranger dressed in a Gondorian general uniform. Angela is confused by this newcomer - she doesn't know who he is, which is strange because The Company™ had compiled databases on all of Gondor's political elite. She asks him. The stranger introduces himself as Aragorn, Son Of Arathorn, while Boromir briefly reiterates the story of how he met Aragorn, how Aragorn saved his life, and all of Aragorn's heroic feats during the Battle Of Osgiliath.

Just then, a furious Denethor comes storming in. He is not happy at all! Denethor fumes and expresses his rage over the destruction of Osgiliath. Weren't the Sky-People's weapons supposed to save the city so that he could restore the ruins to their former glory? Denethor then turns to Aragorn and snaps at him too, whom he views as a false claimant to the throne of Gondor. Denethor shouts at pretty much _everyone_ gathered there: at his sons, at Aragorn, and at The Company™ people there. He then storms back out of the room, fuming. Angela has a quick word with Chris and Jonathan, and then decides to take a break.

A few minutes later, Angela is taking a break out in the courtyard by the White Tree, sitting down and thinking. At that moment, she her MyPhone starts buzzing. She notices that it's... guess who? Fred calling her. Yes, Fred from Book1, stationed over at Autumn's Frontier. Angela is pissed off that Fred is bothering her at this critical moment, and is about to ignore the call, but then decides to answer it anyway to tell Fred off for wasting her time.

To her surprise, it turns out that it's not Fred calling her at all, but actually a highly encrypted message disguised within a soundbite. Angela quickly runs a special decryption software (that she has access to; normally, only high-ranking Company™ officials would have access to it but in this case, Jonathan Teller's increasing pressure and stress led him to letting Angela take over some of the more highly confidential stuff, including giving Angela access to the special decryption software).

When fully deciphered, the message is a warning that states that there is a traitor in The Company™'s board who is actually a mole working for one of The Company™'s competitors, that this traitorous board member arranged to have a saboteur sent on the _Belo Horizonte_ when it left Earth, and that this saboteur is none other than **Christopher Tremblay**. Tremblay accompanied Angela and Teller to Minas Tirith; in fact, she was just talking to him just a couple minutes earlier. Angela quickly gets up and runs around, looking for Tremblay, but he is nowhere to be seen.


	73. When Dark Elves Attack

_**Writer's Notes:** thank you to those readers who have posted in support of this story. Here is the next "synopsis chapter"._

* * *

 **When Dark Elves Attack**

 **Django:**

Django Lombardi is sitting in the driver's seat of a Wild Cat, driving along the brand new (recently completed) road to Salkaten. They pass several markers that have been raised, marking the spot where the Battle Of The Woods took place (when the Crimson Guardsmen and the Colonial Marines bravely fought off a dual-attack by both Beastmen and Dark Elves on the road-building crew), as well as also serving as a memorial. Django also notes to himself that the road in this part of the woods is a little wonky and zig-zagging rather than completely straight (from when the Badger road-cutting machine was driven in an erratic pattern during the battle).

Django looks at the other passengers riding with him in the Wild Cat: there's also Dr. Cristina DiStefano there, as well as one of her lab helpers, Abigail Flanagan. And riding with them are Bran Stark, Jan Adamsen, and Valten, as well as Bran's direwolf, Summer, riding in the back of the truck. They're heading to the coastal town of Salkaten - officially, this is because Cristina thought it would be nice to take "the boys" she's working with out to the beach for a day.

 _Unofficially_ , though, she insisted on this trip because Bran has lately been having all kinds of visions - visions that Cristina believes are prophetic, and is trying to decipher them. In this particular case, one recurring vision is that of a coastal town with an approaching storm. Cristina believes that this town may match the description of Salkaten, so she insisted that they take Bran there in person and see how he reacts to it.

They arrive in Salkaten. It's a bustling port-town with several tens of thousands of people - not a large town by Earth standards, but very large and prominent by Imperial standards. When Bran fails to do anything strange or out-of-the-ordinary, Cristina is disappointed; she was hoping that his reaction to physically seeing the town up-close would yield some sort of reaction, but no, nothing really exciting. Django tells the boys and Abi as well to go around town and do some sight-seeing, while he and Cristina take a walk along the beach.

The waves are pounding against the shore; children are playing while fishermen reel in their nets. Django and Cristina walk along the stony beach, and it's there that Django decides to confront her. He asks her what the hell is she thinking, and that perhaps it's time to pull the plug on her little project. So Bran might be a psyker. Big deal. There are literally thousands, maybe _millions_ , of other thaumically-potent individuals spread out across all four planets that she can do her science on! What makes Bran so special? Hell, even seeing the future isn't that special at all, when you think about it.

Cristina is upset, and responds that Django doesn't understand. She cared for Bran when he was brought to the _Belo Horizonte_ ; she operated on him, gave him the cybernetic implants that enable him to walk and other things too. And she cared for Summer too, that loyal direwolf, who stayed by his master's side the whole time. She has grown somewhat fond of Bran, coming to regard him maybe as the son she's never had. And she knows that he has special abilities, abilities that can be harnessed for the greater good of mankind. It's here that Django can see that Cristina truly is torn emotionally, between seeing Bran as a son to her, but also treating him as a lab experiment. Cristina is, to put it bluntly, a complicated character.

They argue for a bit more, but then, just then, the wind picks up, and storm clouds gather on the horizon, remarkably fast. Dogs bark, in a mad frenzy. And on this world, when something isn't right, that's never a good sign.

Django gets a phone call; headquarters warns him that the stormfront that their satellites had been tracking has been picking up speed and moving in a most unnatural manner, which can only mean one thing - it's not a storm at all, but some kind of enemy using it as a cover for their attack.

Django and Cristina run back towards Salkaten, as fast as they can, to get to the others, and to get back to the Wild Cat.

* * *

 **Jan:**

Jan, Valten, Bran, and Abi are visiting the downtown area of Salkaten. They visit the quays to watch the trade ships arriving and being unloaded. They visit the marketplace, to see all the merchants peddling their wares - there are traders selling goods from all over the Empire and beyond - metal tools from the Dwarven Kingdoms, furs from Kislev, wines from Bretonnia, and even manufactured goods made by The Company™. Then, Jan decides he wants to a drink and heads off to a local pub. That's when they encounter... who else but Brother Ulryk? To put it bluntly, everyone is shocked!

First of all, Bran is shocked to see someone who looks _exactly_ like his dad! (Because remember: Ulryk was modeled on a character played by Sean Bean in the 2010 film _Black Death_ ). Jan, meanwhile, is shocked to see someone who looks exactly like _Boromir_ (because Jan was stationed on that planet before being transferred here). Both Bran and Jan are surprised at each other for knowing someone that looks like Sean Bean! And then, of course, Ulryk himself is both surprised, and _furious_ to see Valten - he's furious that Valten seemingly abandoned Luthor Huss's crusade to join the Sky-People, people who do not honor the God Sigmar!

Valten tries to defend himself, pointing out that his appointment to join the Sky-People was The Emperor's command. Ulryk rebukes this, calls Valten a traitor, and then tells him in his face that maybe he's not Sigmar Reborn, or at the very least not worthy of that title. Valten, at this point (and still a youth) is enraged and angrily lashes out at Ulryk. The two spar - Ulryk is a fully armed and armored knight, and a veteran warrior, but Valten (who's just wearing civilian clothes) nonetheless still manages to overpower him and kick his ass (so maybe he is Sigmar Reborn after all? Who knows). Indeed, Valten nearly killed Ulryk and probably would have, if not for Bran, Jan, and Abi intervening, begging him to please stop it.

Just then, the church bells around the town start ringing, warning of an impending attack. Town-watchmen and men-at-arms rush to man the walls of the city, while townspeople rush back to their homes. Something is approaching them from the sea.

* * *

 **Boromir:**

Boromir, now Lord-Steward Of The Kingdom Of Gondor, sits on the throne, in an empty hall. He is still recovering from his wounds, but more importantly, he is reeling emotionally from the events of the last few days. He goes over in his mind what happened.

A few days ago, Boromir was meeting with his father, as well as with two of the Sky-People, Jonathan Teller and Christopher Tremblay inside the throne room. Just then, Jonathan received a message on that strange box the Sky-People use to talk to one another, the so-called "MyPhone" (which, he reasons, is similar to the "radio" that Gondor has, but much different at the same time). Jonathan took one look at that message (later revealed to have been sent by his assistant, Angela), his eyes widened, and then he turned to warn Denethor and Boromir to stand back, because Chris is a traitor! Enraged at having his true identity exposed, Chris pulled out a gun he had been secretly carrying on him, and shot Jonathan. Chris then shot at Boromir and Denethor.

Denethor was hit with a bullet in the head and killed, but Boromir managed to take cover, even though his wounds from the Battle Of Osgiliath were paining him. At that point, Aragorn, Faramir, and several other Gondorian troops entered the throne-room; the traitor Chris, outnumbered and exposed, turned and fled the scene.

Jonathan was wounded, but survived, though he is unconscious at the moment, and had to be evacuated back to the colony at Beautiful Horizon for medical treatment. Denethor, however, is dead. Boromir and Fararmir mourned their father, but they could only hold a brief and small funeral ceremony and cremation, for there was still so much work to be done.

That night, they searched the city thoroughly for the traitor, but could not find him. However, two ammunition stores were detonated, several Gondorian soldiers were found murdered at their posts, and a fire raged through one of the city's lower neighborhoods - no doubt all of this was Chris's work. More importantly, scouts report that the Mordorian army has begun crossing the river at several strategic points - it seems that Chris also informed Mordor where Gondor's troops were patrolling the river, thus giving Mordor's forces valuable intel on the best points to cross.

Moreover, the mysterious woman known as "Vidye" (VIDI) has also disappeared. Angela has tried to contact Vidye and recall her for her help in locating and hunting down Chris, but it appears that Jonathan is the only one who has something that the Sky-People call a "recall code" (whatever that means), so now Vidye is off right now to Eru-knows-where and it doesn't look like she'll be back anytime soon. Jonathan is unconscious in hospital, but recovering; in the mean time, Steven Lynn has come to Minas Tirith in Jonathan's place.

Though he has recovered from his wounds at the Battle Of Osgiliath somewhat, Lord Boromir is still stumbling and shambling along, needing to use a crutch, and therefore unable to command the battle. Nonetheless, he heads out to the battlements to review the final preparations for the defense of the city. There, he sees a spectacular, terrifying, and yet magnificent sight at the same time.

First, he sees the Great Host Of Mordor, numbering in the hundreds of thousands, slowly marching across the Pelennor Fields. But then, he also sees, in sharp contrast, the Men Of Gondor, the numerous lines of defenses strewn out across Ramas Echor, the many defenses built and lain out throughout the city. And he sees Aragorn, commanding the army in his place, looking resplendent in his Gondorian general's costume. But more than that, Aragorn looks like something else entirely - he looks like a true Heir to Isildur; he looks like a **KING**. Indeed, one could even say he looks like the _Return Of The King_.

Aragorn gives a final rallying speech to the men, as the Orc army draws ever closer.


	74. Flights Of Fancy

**Flights Of Fancy**

 **Kyra:**

Corporal Kyra Lynn and Private Jeff Caldwell are sparring in the gymnasium / exercise room at Beautiful Horizon. Caldwell asks Kyra what's going on between her and Jan Adamsen. This turns out to be a rather awkward question for Kyra, one that she would rather not answer. (And if you want, there can be some subtle unresolved sexual tension between Kyra and Caldwell, because it bears worth mentioning that Caldwell has been fighting alongside Kyra for much of Book2). When Caldwell presses Kyra on the question, she refuses to answer and stares coldly back at him.

At that moment, the tension is broken when Sergeant Rico walks into the gym and makes an urgent announcement. They are expecting an attack on Minas Tirith soon; in anticipation of this, Captain Müller has authorized and sent several "special assets" to them. These assets had arrived on the last shuttle in, and a team of Company™ engineers have just finished assembling them. These assets should be ready now; Kyra grunts her approval.

* * *

 **Hans:**

Captain Hans Müller is in Altdorf, meeting with the Emperor Karl Franz to discuss the latest on the Emperor's planned "railway project" to connect The Empire.

Just then, he receives an urgent message from the colony, explaining what has happened. He quickly informs the Emperor that Salkaten is under attack by a Dark Elf Fleet, and that two Company™ employees, Dir. Django Lombardi and Dr. Cristina Di Stefano, are believed to have been captured. Secretly, Müller is annoyed at himself; he had just sent several "special assets" over to the Marines on Beautiful Horizon, and from the sounds of it, these "special assets" really could have remained here on this planet so that they could be used right now against the Dark Elves. The timing for all of this could not have been worse.

The Emperor offers his assistance, and calmly asks the Captain to arrange for one of their "dragon ships" (the Valkyrie shuttle) to come to Altdorf immediately.

* * *

 **Demetria:**

A feast is being held at the Ice Palace in Kislev. The Arcturus Legion mercenaries are celebrating their victory in the previous battle against the High Zar Surtha Lenk, and with that, an offer from the Kingdom for the Arcturus Legion to help form and train a new Kislevite Army.

Capt. Demetria Raskalnikova is hanging out with the rest of the Arcturus mercs when suddenly, she receives an urgent call from the colony. The call notifies her of the attack on Salkaten, and that two Company™ personnel are feared captured. She is informed that a Falcon is now en route to Kislev to pick them up and fly them back for a most dangerous assignment.

Demetria smiles; danger is what the Arcturus Legion trains for, this is what they're paid for.

* * *

 **Dominic:**

Dominic and Ellen are sharing a hover-board (and/or jetpacks and/or rocket boots, whatever the reader prefers), while Nobunaga takes his own. All three of them are flying up towards Block 38, the large block within the pyramid that houses SEAGA World Headquarters, located over a kilometer above the ground. For the second time that night, Dom is fighting his fear of heights, holding onto Ellen for dear life.

Just then, they come under attack by... Oculus Drones! What are Oculus Drones? These are basically small hovering drones, each the size of a basketball, that are used for security. They're just one of the myriad products of The Company™ Robotics Division. Each one comes equipped with a laser. Nobunaga, however, is armed with some kind of phased particle beam weapon of his own, which he puts to lethal effect against the oncoming swarm of maybe a dozen or so drones.

Nobunaga turns to Ellen and Dom and tells them to go ahead while he keeps the drones busy. Ellen flies on ahead with Dom, though Dom is able to look back down for a second, and sees the MITA locked in an aerial battle with the small but swift and deadly drones. Dom and Ellen fly on towards Block 38.

* * *

 **Prince Azhamat:**

War-horns are blowing. Drums are being pounded. And the ground shakes from the ponderous footsteps of 400,000 troops on the move. Prince Azahmat is riding his horse at the front of his contingent of the Easterling army. He looks back. There are thousands of disciplined Easterling warriors marching in formation, clad in lamellar armor and burgundy robes; these are the finest that Rhun has to offer. His half-brothers Prince Shahpur and Prince Dikran are riding somewhere well ahead of him, in command of a different section of the army.

Azahmat spends a few minutes reflecting to himself all that has transpired these last few days. It's here that we learn that, far from being the pampered cowardly little brat that Azahmat came across as in Krash & Lunk's PoV chapters, he is actually pretty cunning and competent in his own way. Yeah, he likes wearing silks and perfumes and jewelry, but that's just a cultural thing of all Rhunish nobility. His inner thoughts show that he is quite knowledgeable about the inner politics of Rhun. The main reason why he comes across as a bit of an overconfident oaf whenever talking to Krash & Lunk is because he isn't 100% fluent in Black Speech (the language of Mordor). Granted, Azahmat is still a bit of an asshole, but at least he has hidden depths and is much more perceptive than what his initial appearances let on.

In any case, Azahmat is sitting there, astride his horse, thinking about everything going on in the last few days. An unknown informant gave them valuable information on where to cross the Anduin. Azahmat met with the Witch-King at some point to discuss tactics, and he recalls that the King expressed his displeasure with the two former commanders of the army. Azahmat feels bad; he was starting to get to know and like Krash and Lunk. He shudders at the thought of what the Witch-King was going to have done to them, even though it couldn't really have been their fault that a large chunk of the army got blown sky-high at Osgiliath, right?

Just then, he looks up and sees a strange object sailing in the air above him.

* * *

 **Kyra:**

Above Pelennor Fields, a Falcon shuttle is carrying Bravo Team. Except that four of them - Sgt. Rico, Cpl. Lynn, Pvt. Caldwell, and Pvt. Dreyfus - are dressed in something a little more than the standard Mk. 7 Ballistics Armor. Yes folks, these guys are dressed in **powered armor**.

Remember that secret room aboard the _Horizonte_ where The Company™ was carrying their secret weapons, the multi-megaton warheads? It turns out that the UN had their own secret room as well, except that instead of nukes, what they brought along is a set of four suits of SAMSON Mk. 3 Powered Exoskeleton (that probably looks a lot like the Battle Suits from the 2014 movie _Edge Of Tomorrow_ , starring Tom Cruise and Emily Blunt).

Kyra checks the battle map on her helmet's HUD. They're coming up soon on the drop point. She quickly gives a last-minute speech:

 _"Whatever else happens today, remember this above all: we're doing this for Jan! We're doing this for Phil! And we're doing this for every woman of Rohan to suffer at the hands of these bastards! So go out there, and make 'em pay!"_

And then the doors open, and they all jump out, one by one.


	75. Our Darkest Hour

**Our Darkest Hour**

 **Aragorn:**

Aragorn watches from the battlements. The First Army Of Gondor's artillery guns are firing away, churning up Ramas Echor into mud and blasted Orc body-parts. The Mordorian army is bringing up their own cannons and other siege engines, like ladders and siege towers, though, at the moment, Gondor has the advantage in that their guns are mounted on top of towers or on the wall, so they have a considerable advantage in range and accuracy over Mordor's.

Meanwhile, Aragorn also observes the several lines of trenches and barbed wire set up in front of the city walls over the last few weeks; he doesn't like the look of it, but Faramir told him about a great war the Sky-People had in their distant past that looked a little like this, one that was so horrendous that they called it "the War To End All Wars" even though that turned out not to be true. He grips his sword, as if trying to remind himself that there is still some nobility in fighting, though from the looks of it, regardless of whatever happens on this day, the face of warfare on this world will be forever changed.

* * *

 **Kyra:**

Bravo Team has been dropped right into the middle of the battle. The four SAMSON power suits, armed to the teeth with machine guns, autocannons, grenade launchers, and a chainsaw, make mince-meat of the hordes of Orcs swarming at them. Even the other Marines wearing just regular Mk. 7 Ballistics Armor are able to make a sizable dent on the Orcs' numbers, as they're armed with assault rifles and grenades. More and more Orcs keep rushing at them, only to get mowed down by machine guns or blown up by grenades; any Orc that makes it too close gets met by a chainsaw to the face.

Kyra makes sure to conserve her ammunition, notably the autocannon, so she uses mainly melee, using her chainsaw to slash left and right. The servo-motors and hydraulics in the exosuit's arms and legs move in sync with Kyra's, enhancing greatly her strength, thought it still requires a lot of great personal strength and stamina and coordination to maneuver the suit.

It's strange: Marines are trained in melee combat, but usually with combat knives rather than swords, and usually as a secondary skill to their primary, firearms training. But in this case, Kyra and her companions are relying on melee primarily. The diamond-tipped chainsaws equipped with the SAMSON were meant mainly for cutting through obstacles like thick forests, or for cutting through buildings during search-and-rescue operations, so they cut through Orcs like wet tissue paper; Caldwell even slices through a troll with his one. The SAMSON suits are so effective that they are literally fighting uphill, up the pile of bodies forming at their feet.

Just a brief digression from the plot to talk about the SAMSON:

The SAMSON is, for all intents and purposes, a slightly smaller version of the HULK exosuits used for utility purposes. As mentioned in an earlier chapter, I think the battle suits featured in the film _Edge Of Tomorrow_ would be a pretty good approximation to what I had envisioned the SAMSON looking like. In this universe, mecha units generally aren't used in Terran militaries due to the large profile which makes them easy targets for heavy weapons, and while the SAMSON armor is pretty thick, there do exist heavy weapons like high-powered lasers, particle beams, and anti-tank missiles that can penetrate it.

The SAMSON represents an attempt to try to take the strength and utility of the HULK, and shrink it down to not much bigger than an infantryman, so that it presents less of an obvious target on the battlefield. Granted, the SAMSON is still larger than an average infantryman, but the enhanced strength, speed, and protection it offers makes up for this. Basically, it's supposed to be the ideal "middle ground" between regular unpowered armor worn by Marines, and the larger exosuits like the HULK that are just far too large and bulky to be practical in most combat operations.

And now back to the story.

Sgt. Rico warns Bravo Team of new contacts. Several enormous elephant-like creatures are stomping in their direction. Sgt. Rico fires several rounds from his autocannon; the armor-piercing rounds easily penetrate the brain of the first Oliphaunt, killing it immediately. The gigantic pondering beast collapses to the ground, crushing dozens of Orcs beneath its weight, while also sending all the Haradrim soldiers riding on its back flying everywhere.

Caldwell, meanwhile, does something a little different: he fires several bursts from his machine gun at the eyes of the second Oliphaunt coming up right behind it. The beast, blinded, howls in pain, and run amok, smashing into the third Oliphaunt next to it; both Oliphants come crashing down onto the ground.

In response to this, Rico remarks "still only counts as one!" Caldwell laughs and quips that maybe they should have thought about dropping mice all around the battlefield to scare the elephants.

Just then, Kyra hears a screeching sound - it's pretty loud enough that even the Orcs around them stop to hold their ears shut (though the Marines have audio-filters in their helmets, so they're not too badly affected by it). She looks up.

* * *

 **Aragorn:**

Aragorn watches as the Nazghul descend onto the city. One of the Fell Beasts swoops low over the wall, grabs a cannon, and throws it around, as well as knocking the crew off the battlements, sending them falling to their deaths. Aragorn stands his ground and orders the searchlights activated and shined in the faces of the Fell Beasts, hoping that the intense light will overcome the darkness represented by the Nine. The whole scene is accompanied by a wailing: an air-raid siren that The Company™ had sold to Gondor, to be sounded in the event of an attack from the air.

In the streets of the city, panicked civilians flee for cover. Several Gondorian troops man a new weapon that, it turns out, The Company™ had produced and supplied upon learning that some threats may come from the air: the _Ballonabwehrkanone_ \- a 1-pound, 37mm cannon first invented by Krupp during the Franco-Prussian War in the 1870's. About 20 of these were built and supplied to Gondor by The Company™, and all of these have been mounted along the city walls on swiveling mounts, with intent for their use against both aerial and ground targets. The brave men stationed at these guns point them skywards and open fire, overcoming their fear (and it also helps that there are bright lights being flashed skywards).

One of the Fell Beasts is wounded by the flak rounds and comes crashing down somewhere in town. Aragorn decides to go personally and take care of the Wraith. He leaves command of the wall to Boromir and Faramir.

* * *

 **Nobunaga:**

"Nobunaga" is locked in an aerial battle against a swarm of Oculus Drones; he is unfazed in the slightest as he flies through the air on his hover-board, performs tight maneuvers with the highest precision, and destroys each drone one-by-one. Because if there's one thing this story absolutely needed, it's an aerial battle with robots and lasers, right?

* * *

 **Django:**

Django wakes up. He doesn't know where he is. He feels cold and in pain, and as he gets a bearing of his surroundings, he can see precisely where he is. He is naked, covered in bruises, and bleeding. And he is tied back-to-back to Cristina, who is also in the same situation, but unconscious. They are locked inside a dark room somewhere. Just then, the doors open, and in steps one of the Dark Elves, with a sinister grin on his face. He is carrying a whip. Django shudders at the sight of it.


	76. The Hall Of Heroes

**The Hall Of Heroes**

 **Ellen:**

Ellen and Dominic arrive on the first level of SEAGA World Headquarters. They enter the lobby, which, as described in an earlier chapter by Dominic, is a huge entrance hall, decorated with fountains and with 12 gigantic statues that celebrate some of the most iconic characters of various popular SEAGA franchises, these being:

 **Hypersonic The Porcupine** : titular character from the _Hypersonic_ series, and SEAGA's mascot (kind of like how SEAGA's rival corporate Ninuendo has Super Marco from _Super Mafia Brothers_ as their mascot).

 **Commander Sherpa** : main protagonist from the _Mass Defect_ series, one of the most beloved of all time (judging by all the shitty fanfiction that exists of it on this website), unless we count the infamously _terrible_ ending to _Mass Defect 3_ , or the equally terrible follow-up game _Mass Defect: Andromeda_.

 **Laura Cruyft** : main protagonist of the _Tomb Invader_ series, originally owned by Diamond Enix though later acquired by SEAGA sometime in the late-21st century upon Enix's bankruptcy.

 **Jarred Of Riviera** : from the open-world fantasy _The Watcher_ series, based on the best-selling and acclaimed series of fantasy novels by Polish-Lithuanian author Andrzej Kaminsky. Originally produced by Seedy Projekt before being acquired by SEAGA.

 **Generic Samurai warrior** : representing the _Total War_ series - because the _Shogun_ titles in the by-now long-running historical-themed war-gaming series were among the first and arguably the _best_ in the entire series, and also because this is an office building in Japan.

 **Generic WW1 British Tommy** : representing the first-person shooter _Battlefield_ series. SEAGA chose WW1 because it was "less controversial" than WW2 or WW3, and also because the WW1-themed shooters (which are unique) are much more well-liked than the WW2 and "modern warfare" shooters (which are considered boring, stale, and conventional).

 **Generic "Sym" character** : from the simulator "virtual dollhouse" game _The Syms_ , and probably the most successful of all of Phil Wright's line of "Sym games" (among other titles such as _SymCity_ , _SymEarth_ , _SymEmpire_ , _SymPlanes_ , and _SymSym_ ).

 **Clark Asimov** : main protagonist of the sci-fi horror action _Red Space_ dodecalogy, and named after two of the most famous sci-fi writers ever - Isaac Clarke and Arthur C. Asimov.

 **Ryuk Suzuki** : main protagonist of the open-world action/adventure _Shenhua_ series. Despite only 3 games ever being made, _Shenhua_ nonetheless enjoys such a dedicated cult following that when SEAGA first began construction of the "Hall Of Heroes" and took opinion polls among their fans to see which games should be honored, _Shenhua_ appeared near the top of the list.

 **Khaine** : iconic main antagonist of the real-time strategy _Come N' Conquer_ series.

 **Bayonet'Ya** : titular protagonist of the _Bayonet' Ya_ series (actually owned by a separate company, Iridium Games, but because SEAGA handled the distribution for IG, therefore they got to retain the rights to claim Bayonet' Ya as one of their pantheon).

 **Alice Melchett** : protagonist of the military role-playing _Walküre Chronicles_ series.

In any case, after devoting extensive time and detail to describing the interior layout of SEAGA headquarters' lobby, now comes time to tear it all apart! As Ellen and Dominic enter the lobby from one side, a door opens on the other side, and a couple dozen Zipdroid™ Model S1 security-bots come charging through. Zipdroids are cheaply mass-produced bipedal worker bots designed to serve different functions (such as manual laborers or as security guards) and are nothing on the level of Nexus units. Individually, a Zipdroid isn't much of a threat to a well-armed Human; however, in this case, there are a lot of them, and they've all been armed with arc-projecting tazer-weapons.

Ellen and Dom take cover, and return fire, using the weapons that TEC gave them. Now, TEC has access to a huge array of highly advanced technology, including top-of-the-line weaponry. However, at the same time, TEC would also be wary about handing over some of their higher-level tech to outsiders like Dom and Ellen. Nonetheless, I envisioned this scene playing out with Dom and Ellen both being armed with an experimental infantry laser weapon known as a "Lasgun", as well as plasma grenades.

The lobby is reduced to a shooting gallery as both sides trade fire back and forth; chunks of masonry get ripped out of the walls, and even the poor statues get badly damaged by the gunfire and/or laserfire being thrown back and forth. Then, Ellen gets an idea: she throws a grenade, and misses - or it seems like that at first. Turns out, she was deliberately targeting the foot of one of the statues (and readers would get to choose which of the 12 statues described above gets to have this "honor"). The grenade detonates, destroying the statue's foot and causing it to come crashing down and land on top of the remaining Zipdroids, crushing them. Dom makes a quip along the lines of something related to the statue.

 **For example** : if Ellen blows up the base of the Commander Sherpa statue, Dom will drop some snarky one-liner referring to something in the _Mass Defect_ games.

* * *

 **Mr. Fukushitsu:**

While the battle rages on down in the lobby, Mr. Fukushitsu is sitting in his office, watching the action unfold on closed-circuit television. He curses at Dominic and Ellen, wondering how the hell they were ever able to survive two Nexus units sent after them, or how they made it back here. Regardless, it looks like he'll have much less time than he thought to do what he needs to do.

Now that he's been compromised, Mr. Fukushitsu decides to evacuate and flee to safety before The Company™ finds out and comes after him. But first, he has to destroy all the files in SEAGA's database that could reveal the identity of his fellow saboteurs, or reveal the true extent of their sabotage operations. He also plans to implement a "scorched earth" policy as he retreats, planting a scrap-code that will bring down SEAGA's servers, and also wipe out years and years of data, research, development work on new video games, etc.

All of this, however, takes a lot of time: it turns out that The Company™ did indeed plan for such a possibility when they first set up their network, and so all their most vital data is protected by layers-upon-layers of safeguards in place. Without his two Nexus units to assist him, it's taking Mr. Fukushitsu _hours_ to work on accessing and/or bypassing each level of security.

Just then, he receives a phone call from his mysterious master (whose identity remains unknown), demanding to know what's going on. Mr. Fukushitsu calmly explains the situation best he can. The master, of course, is annoyed. Furthermore, he explains that thanks to Mr. Fukushitsu's failure to capture Dominic and Ellen, their agent in the EE System has now been compromised. Mr. Fukushitsu begs for forgiveness and for his life. The master replies that despite his failings, Mr. Fukushitsu is still a valuable asset; therefore, he will be rescued (albeit, still punished for his shortcomings). The master also gives Fukushitsu permission and the requisite override codes needed to activate a final measure, a Nexus-8 unit (named AJAX) secretly being kept in storage at SEAGA HQ, only to be used in absolute emergencies.

Mr. Fukushitsu thanks the master, and gets back to his work.

* * *

 **Somewhere else...**

Deep beneath SEAGA Headquarters, a coffin-like pod (similar to the ones we saw earlier in this story being used to transport VENI, VIDI, and VICI to the Epsilon Eridani System) is retrieved from storage by giant servo-arms. The pod begins to open. The reader is treated to a start-up sequence similar to the one we saw when VIDI and/or VICI booted up. This, ladies and gentlemen, is **AJAX**.

 _ **Writer's Note:** Nexus-8 units have a naming scheme themed after Classical Greco-Roman culture. So far, we've had VENI, VIDI, and VICI named after Julius Caesar's famous quote, and now we have AJAX named after a mythical Greek hero participated in the Trojan War (and also a Marvel Comics villain). Other Classical-themed names I've considered for Nexus-8 units have been AXIOS (Greek for "I am worthy"), ARTEMIS (after the Greek goddess), CLIO (after one of the Muses), and CATO (after the Roman guy). _


	77. The Great Beast

**The Great Beast**

 **Aragorn:**

Last time at the Battle Of Minas Tirith, one of the Fell Beasts was wounded by an anti-aircraft gun and landed somewhere in the city. Here's what comes next.

Aragorn and a squad of men arrive at the scene of where the wounded Fell Beast crashed. The beast is dead, impaled on a spire as it landed. However, the dead bodies of horrified civilians and soldiers all around it have sword marks on them, indicating that while the beast is dead, its rider is still up and active (Aragorn, being an experienced tracker and ranger, would notice such things).

Aragorn unsheathes his sword and warns his men to be on the lookout. Then, again using his skills as a tracker, begins following the path taken by the Wraith.

* * *

 **Boromir:**

Boromir limps back and forth along the battlements, watching and commanding the ongoing battle. The Orcs have taken egregious losses against the barbed wire, the rifle volleys, and the artillery, but they are nonetheless still pushing forwards, having overcome the first, second, and third trenches, and are now encroaching on the walls. Even though the heroic Sky-People warriors are busy killing Orcs left and right, the rest of the army of Mordor is simply going _around_ them, trying to avoid them, and heading for the walls.

The good news is that the barbed wire isn't easy to climb over, and the trenches aren't easy to fill in. Pulling down the barbed wire in order to clear the way for the siege engines ends up stalling the Orc horde and buying precious time for the defenders. Most importantly, the trenches have made the ground uneven and difficult for Mordor to bring their siege towers up to the wall. From his vantage point, Boromir observes a siege tower get stuck as they try to push it over the first trench. Elsewhere, another Boromir notices another siege tower toppling because its top-heavy and being hauled over from uneven ground.

That's when Boromir observes a truly frightful sight. Mordor is bringing out their most fearsome weapon yet: **Grond** , Sauron's battering ram named after the dreaded "Hammer Of The Underworld". Except here, there's a twist. Over the last few months, Sauron has slowly been working on gunpowder technology - helped in large part by Saruman's experiments, as well as the knowledge given to them by the traitor Christopher Tremblay. Early on, Sauron, looking ahead towards the various applications of gunpowder, decided to adapt Grond to suit a new purpose. Over the last few months, he has had his smiths hard at work, re-crafting the ancient weapon to suit a new purpose. Now, instead of being a gigantic battering ram, Grond has been reforged into an enormous cannon.

Just a minor digression to talk more about this huge cannon: Grond looks similar to what it did in OTL. It is a massive object, a hundred feet in length, crafted out of black steel and with a head carved in the shape of a snarling wolf, recalling perhaps Carcharoth, the Great Wolf Of Angband. It is mounted on huge wooden wheels, and is so heavy that it's pulled by a dozen Great Beasts Of Gorgoroth. The cannon easily has a bore over 35 inches in size! Its ammunition appears to consist of several huge iron balls (each easily weighing a ton or so), which are pulled alongside it in several wagons, also hauled by Great Beasts. The gun's firing operation is directed from a wooden platform at the rear of it, manned by Orcs, but the loading of the shot is done by trolls, who are the only ones with the sheer strength needed to lift each 1-ton cannonball, not to mention the dozens of bags of powder needed to propel each shot!

Boromir knows right away that this massive gun must not be allowed to fire on the city. He orders all remaining Minas Tirith batteries to "concentrate all firepower on that cannon!" Gondorian artillery shells rain death and destruction upon the beasts pulling the cannon and the Orcs and trolls manning it; however, they are unable to actually damage the cannon itself, since it's huge, thick, and crafted out of almost solid metal.

During the bombardment, one of the artillery shells lands and explodes among the wagons containing the massive cannonballs for Grond. They all explode in a massive fireball of brilliant scarlet flame, showing that there was indeed some kind of evil magic being worked into each cannonball as it was being crafted. Boromir decides that it's better that things turned out this way rather than finding out what was in each shot the hard way.

* * *

 **Faramir:**

Faramir is directing the troops at the wall. By now, dozens of volleys have been fired, but the enemy still keeps coming on. He notices a large red explosion in the distance, right next to that huge cannon (as mentioned above, this is Grond's ammunition exploding after getting hit by Gondorian artillery).

Just then, a Wraith emerges from within the city and begins attacking the men on the wall. Faramir fights back, but gets overpowered and is losing badly, getting his ass handed to him. At the last minute, Aragorn shows up and lends him a hand. Together, they manage to defeat it.

* * *

 **Aurelia:**

This the first POV we have of the Asur named Aurelia Maeteris, of the House Of Maeteris from the Land Of Caledor. Aurelia is a dragonrider; several weeks ago, she had been riding her dragon, Serafina, riding to the aid of Ulthuan's defense fleet that had run afoul of the Dark Elf Dreadfleet under the command of Tyr'ale Soulreaver and Malus Darkblade. During the battle, she was cornered and overpowered by several Dark Elf dragonriders, and captured.

Since then, Aurelia has been a prisoner of Tyr'ale Soulreaver. All the other captured Asur were executed or sacrificed; Aurelia is still alive because Tyr'ale decided to make her into Tyr'ale's personal slave. Suffice to say, it is a humiliating, horrific, painful, and degrading experience, but far worse to Aurelia than any torture is the anguish she still feels over the death of Serafina, her dragon, who was killed during the battle. Aurelia almost wishes that she was among the other Asur prisoners who were executed, because surely that would be a far better fate than what she's being made to do now.

Today, Aurelia witnesses one of the captured Sky-People being brought in by Tyr'ale Soulreaver. This chapter then goes on to contain a graphic torture scene, and I won't go into any further details. I think another reason why I lost the motivation to continue writing this story was because I didn't feel up to writing this chapter, even though it is important to the story. So far, with a few exceptions, most of the "acts of evil" committed by the Dark Elves have been mainly "offscreen" and "implied". For example, we know that Tyr'ale has been abusing and torturing Aurelia, but we've never actually seen her do that; up until now, it's been mainly implied. This chapter, however, would finally directly showcase a direct act of depravity being committed by Tyr'ale for the reader's benefit. Poor Aurelia is just tied up there, helpless and unable to do anything, forced to watch Tyr'ale torture this poor person to death.

On the other hand, I didn't want to actually write the chapter because that would have been hard for me to do it. You know, it's funny, I'm working on another story right now, set in 40k, that also features a mass sacrifice / torture performed by the Dark Eldar (or at least the aftermath of one, as witnessed by Space Marines hunting down these Dark Eldar), and I also decided not to do describe the scene in any great details - partly because that would have broken the pacing of the prose, and also because it would have been hard for me to have to imagine and write every little gruesome and graphic detail of what the Dark Eldar are capable of.

The point is: the Dark Elves (as well as the Dark Eldar from 40k) are supposed to be among the most evil and depraved factions in any fantasy or sci-fi setting, and this chapter would have showcased that in all of its horrific glory. The dramatic point served by this would have been to shock and disturb the reader and remind all of us why the Dark Elves are the bad guys here and need to be defeated, thereby raising the emotional stakes for the final showdown. That's all I'll say on that front, I think readers can imagine the rest.


	78. To Ruin And The World's Ending

**To Ruin And The World's Ending**

 **Theodred** :

The cavalry arrives at a ridge overlooking the battlefield. Thanks to the numerous butterfly effects and what not introduced into the story by The Company™'s arrival, the War In Rohan took a different course than in the original story. Rohan is now in a considerably better position than they were in OTL; they have also mobilized an army of some 10,000 horsemen instead of the mere 6,000 they had in OTL, and they are led by a young, strong, and proud king, Theodred, Son Of Theoden. The young man looks resplendent in his father's golden armor, the sun gleaming off of it. He turns to face his men and gives a speech, one that seems to be almost channeling the spirit of his father, talking about "riding to ruin and the world's ending!" and all that good stuff. And then, they begin galloping...

* * *

 **Kyra:**

Kyra and her squad are still fighting right in the thick of the battle. And here, we might have this action sequence go on for a few pages longer, because I know that the readers out there are hungering for even more "power armor vs. Orc" action. Also, this chapter along with Kyra's previous is a good vehicle for exploring more about the SAMSON power armor.

Again, another digression to talk about the SAMSON armor, particularly as this one contains details that are plot-relevant, but also help the reader to better visualize the whole "power armor vs. Orc" battle.

As stated before, the SAMSON is a "midway" between regular infantry armor (like the Mk. 7 Ballistics Armor) and larger but bulkier powered exoskeletons like the HULK. Fully equipped, the SAMSON weighs in at about 900kg. The suit requires a powerful but lighter and more compact energy source than HULK units, so it runs on six compact plasma power cells. The suit is equipped with 4 hardpoints (one on each forearm, and one on each shoulder), which can be equipped with a variety of different weapons, according to the needs of the mission at hand. The below list includes some of the weapons that can selected (general rule: pick four or five of the below items for each suit).

 **Choice of SAMSON Mk. 3 loadout:**

 **7.62mm machine gun** : usually arm-mounted; belt-fed, connected to an ammo box worn on the back; approx. 800 rounds.

 **20mm grenade launcher** : usually arm-mounted; drum magazine, 40 rounds; selection of grenades can be customized to suit the needs of the mission, and may include fragmentation grenades, flashbangs, incendiaries, tear gas, flares, smoke, and so on.

 **20mm autocannon** : usually shoulder-mounted; drum magazine holds 40 rounds.

 **Flamethrower** : usually arm-mounted; tanks hold enough fuel and propellant for 3 minutes of continuous use.

 **Rocket launcher** : shoulder-mounted; automatically loaded from a drum magazine containing 16 rounds.

 **"Tasgun" Electroshock Device** : usually arm-mounted; draws power from the suit's power unit.

 **Sonic/Ultrasonic Device** : shoulder-mounted; draws power from the suit's power unit.

 **Grappling gun** : usually arm-mounted; compressed air gun fires a grappling hook and attached length of carbon nanotube cable, and a gas-powered winch reels it in. May be used as a grappling gun.

 **Diamond-tipped chainsaw** : arm-mounted; primarily intended for clearing foliage and obstacles, but may be adapted as a melee weapon; draws power from the suit's power unit.

 **Plasma arc cutter** : a small plasma-cutter is also included, for welding and/or cutting through metal obstacles. Attached to the belt.

Despite the high-tech weaponry and armor she's carrying around, Kyra nonetheless is still impressed and amazed when she looks up and sees the sight of ten thousand horsemen charging down the hill, right at the Mordor army's flank. The Rohirrim are nowhere near as well equipped as the Colonial Marines, but there is still something inspiring about how fearless they are in throwing themselves into battle.

* * *

 **Dominic:**

Dom and Ellen are fighting their way through SEAGA Headquarters, fighting off attacks by Oculus Drones and Zipdroids. Dom notes, with some irony, that it's just like a level on a first-person shooter except much more terrifying, knowing he could die for real.

Just then, AJAX emerges out of nowhere and attacks. We've seen Nexus-8s fight before, whether it was VENI in Book1 or VIDI in Book2. In these prior situations, it was usually the case that the Nexus-8 was on the "good guys' side" against the "bad guys". However, now, for the first time, we have the situation reversed and now it's the _protagonists_ who are on the receiving end of an ass-whooping by a Nexus-8.

Indeed, it's very likely that AJAX would have easily killed both Dom and Ellen with minimal effort if not for at that moment, Nobunaga arriving on the scene and pulling AJAX away from Dom and Ellen. Nobunaga and AJAX wrestle. Nobunaga orders Dom and Ellen to continue moving ahead, and he'll stay and keep AJAX tied up. Dom nods, and he and Ellen run away.

* * *

 **Krash and Lunk** :

Krash and Lunk can hear the sounds of the battle raging on, but they've been left back in camp to be punished for what happened at Osgiliath (yeah, it wasn't their fault that a large chunk of the army got blown up, but still, the Witch King was still annoyed at what happened and needed to take his rage out on someone).

At the moment, Krash and Lunk are chained to a pair of wooden posts, awaiting execution. Krash is in despair, knowing that in spite of doing everything he thought was right, instead it's all come down to this. A couple nights ago, they were visited by Leftenant Snook (now promoted to Captain), who is still loyal to Krash and Lunk. Snook was sorry to see what happened to Krash and Lunk, and tells them that he knows that what happened at Osgiliath was not their fault. But, alas, the Witch-King's orders must be followed, or else.

Just then, a screeching roar is heard, and they see a Fell Beast approaching them. The beast is hungry, and its handlers prepare to feed it lunch - namely, Krash and Lunk. The beast snaps at its handlers as they poke and prod it, guiding it towards the two hapless Orcs chained to their posts.

Krash closes his eyes and starts saying his final words. Lunk, however, begins shouting some gibberish that Krash doesn't know what the hell he's saying. The Fell Beast roars, then stops and stares at Lunk, confused. The beast's handlers continue prodding it, urging it to eat Krash and Lunk. Lunk, however, continues reciting whatever gobbidy-gook he's saying. The beast stops again, and then this time, it promptly turns on its handlers, devouring them.

Krash opens his eyes and is amazed at what he sees, the beast mauling and ripping apart the beast handlers, as well as the camp guards too. The beast snatches one of the guards in its jaws, then turns around and drops it right in front of Lunk. Krash sees that the guard's corpse has the keys to their chains on him!

To put it mildly, Krash is at a complete loss for words for what the hell he's just seen. Lunk, though, explains that he learned it in _How To Train Your Fell Beast_. Yes, remember that big book that the Witch King was using to train his Fell Beast that appeared earlier in this story? It turns out that whenever he wasn't using it, sometimes Lunk would peek at the book and read it, and the book is fantastic as it explains much about the character and nature of these creatures. Yeah, Fell Beasts are ugly and scary to look at, and they are pretty vicious and aggressive, but they are also pretty intelligent and can be domesticated and trained with the right commands and techniques. In particular, Fell Beasts respond well to certain commands. Moreover, they want to hunt, not to be fed, so it's fairly easy to convince one to attack and eat its handlers rather than whatever food is deposited cleanly in front of it. Krash listens to Lunk explaining all of this, and just doesn't know what to say.

Lunk unlocks his chains, and then unlocks Krash. Just then, though, the Fell Beast roars, warning them of several other camp guards coming at them. Lunk calms down the Fell Beast, and then climbs up onto its back. Krash is dumbfounded by this, but follows suit, also climbing onto the Fell Beast's back, and then holding onto Lunk. Krash asks if he's ever done this before, to which Lunk admits no, and there is a very high possibility they may both die very badly. And then, with that, they fly off into the sky.


	79. The Ride Of The Valkyrie

**The Ride Of The Valyries**

 **Malus:**

Malus Darkblade summons Tyr'ale Soulreaver to his tower aboard the Black Ark. Ostensibly, this is to discuss strategy (their plan was to attack Salkaten as a diversion so that the Sky-People would send their forces to retake the town, leaving their colony undefended so that a second group of Druchii, who are currently heading there over land, can attack the colony).

However, Malus's real reason to see Tyr'ale was to berate her over the treatment of the prisoners. He reminds her that she should try to be a little more careful in her, ahem, "handling" of the prisoners, seeing as they are valuable; as long as these prisoners are being held by them, the Sky-People will think twice about attacking the Dreadfleet.

Tyr'ale responds by smugly admitting that she kind of let her desires get the better of her this time, but that she nonetheless enjoyed it very much. At this point, Malus is furious at Tyr'ale's attitude, and lashes out at her. Just then, they hear a roar overhead - unlike thunder, which alerts them that something is off. Malus strides out to his balcony to see what's going on.

* * *

 **The Emperor** :

Hundreds of meters above the sea, Captain Müller and Ambassador Alpers are watching the Dark Elf fleet from inside the Valkyrie shuttle, which is serving as their mobile command center. They are joined by the Emperor, who flew in with them from Altdorf.

Alpers asks the Captain if they're going to try to request a formal surrender first, you know, in line with UNASEC regulations. Müller states that the emergency circumstances are sufficient to warrant a foregoing of that protocol, and orders that the attack begin. They can't bomb the fleet because they're worried they may kill the prisoners, so they're going to have to take out the fleet ship by ship.

The Emperor then mounts up onto _Deathclaw_ (remember, that's the name of his Griffon; no relation to _Fallout_ here!), who is also onboard the Valk; it is revealed that Karl Franz and his fellow griffon-riders are all present, their griffons standing inside the Valkyrie's cargo hold. The Emperor and his guards mount their rides. Alpers is a little apprehensive, seeing as they've never done this before.

Then, a warning light starts flashing, and the huge cargo doors at the back of the Valkyrie slowly begin opening. Once the doors are open, a green light starts flashing, and Müller tells the Emperor that he's clear to go. The Emperor and Deathclaw charge down the ramp and then leap off into the air, and begin falling down towards the fleet below, followed by his fellow griffon riders.

So basically, yes, this chapter features a paradrop... only with griffons instead of paratroopers.

* * *

 **Krya:**

The battle outside the walls of Minas Tirith rages on. Jeff Caldwell has run out of ammo and is now fighting melee with just his chainsaw. By now, they've been fighting nonstop for _hours_ , and the warning light in his helmet HUD indicates that the power cells on his SAMSON suit are dangerously overheating.

Just then, the Witch King Of Angmar appears! He is riding on the back of his Fell Beast. The monster's mouth is gaping wide-open; it snaps down on Caldwell's head. Though the SAMSON armor protects him (even breaks some of the Fell Beast's teeth), the creature still has enough of a grip that it lifts him right up into the air and shakes him back and forth, like a gigantic dog playing with a chew toy. Caldwell swings his chainsaw around and slashes the creature's jaw; the Fell Beast roars in pain and throws Caldwell away.

*(Brief note: in OTL, a Fell Beast was able to pick up King Theoden and his horse, and throw him around like a ragdoll. A suit of SAMSON armor is about 900kg, including the wearer, which is about the same weight as a draft-horse, the largest breeds of which can weigh over 1,000kg. I think it's reasonable that a Fell Beast might be able to pick up a man dressed in armor and throw him).

Caldwell lands on the ground, fifty feet away when the Fell Beast threw him. Unfortunately, while the exosuit is heavily armored, kinetic impacts can still severely wound whoever is inside the suit (it's still all just flesh and blood inside the armor, no matter how much armor plating you pile on top of that). That, and Caldwell landed in such a way that the suit ended up doing the splits upon impact - which... yeah, I can only imagine what happened to anybody inside the suit when it does that. At the very least, that must be like a leg getting torn out of your socket. Yikes.

Kyra shouts out for Caldwell, alarmed, even calling him by his name "Jeff" instead of "Pvt. Caldwell". However, she's distracted by the Witch King and his Fell Beast. The creature is writhing and flailing about, still in pain from when Jeff sliced its jaw half open. Kyra finishes the job as she charges up to the beast and drives her chainsaw into its skull, slicing its head open and killing it. She then duels the Witch-King himself.

She casts a side glance at Jeff, his damaged suit lying there, motionless. Orcs are now swarming over Jeff, trying to tear his suit open, though to no avail. However, one of the other Wraiths approaches Jeff, wielding some kind of magic glowing blade. The Wraith drives it into Jeff's chestplate, and to everyone's shock, the magic weapon penetrates even that armor! Because it's magic! Kyra can hear Jeff's voice over the radio, crying in pain. Kyra is upset. First Phil, then Jan, and now Jeff too.

Jeff, however, summons whatever strength and determination he has left. He says goodbye to Kyra over the radio, and wishes her the best.

 **Jeff Caldwell** : _"Kyra..."_

 **Kyra Lynn** : _"Jeff!"_

 **Jeff Caldwell** : _"Was... an honor... sir. Take care."_

He then sets his overheated power cells to self-destruct.

There is a bright flash and then an explosion and even a small mushroom cloud. The overheated plasma power cells on Jeff's SAMSON suit detonate, taking out Jeff and, with him, the Orcs and the Wraith who were standing around him. Even the Witch-King is momentarily distracted by the intense burst of light.

Kyra, thinking quickly, reaches for something special she's carrying on her: a gift she got from Galadriel, back when she spoke to her in Isengard. It's some kind of magic dagger. She pulls it out and stabs the Witch-King with it. The Wraith stumbles backwards. Kyra then ejects one of the overheated plasma cells from her suit; it's glowing white hot. Gripping it in her armored hand, she thrusts it into the Witch-King's face. We also get this little exchange:

 **The Witch-King** : [surprised] _"No man can kill me!"_

 **Kyra Lynn** : [ejects her suit's helmet] _"I'm no man."_


	80. The Call Of Chaos

**The Call Of Chaos**

 **Jan:**

Abi Flanagan is gone, the Dark Elves took her. Jan Adamsen curses his luck; he came out here today dressed in his casual clothes rather than in his Colonial Marine armor, though he still has his personal defense side arm (everyone carries one).

Right now, Jan and Valten are standing on the docks of Salkaten; they've armed themselves with whatever other weapons they can find, and they are fighting off a dozen Dark Elf corsairs who are attacking them (Jan's cybernetic improvements aid him greatly in this fight). They are helped by several town militia who have joined them (mostly armed with swords and primitive black powder muskets, though a few are even armed with Company™-made rifles). They are also helped out by Brother Ulryk, who has set aside any hard feelings he has towards Valten's supposed "betrayal" of Luthor Huss.

Bran, though, is gone; Jan had ordered Bran and his direwolf Summer to head to the town's central citadel and take shelter there.

Just then, a Falcon gunship comes swooping past, firing its weapons at the Dark Elves. The Falcon then lands, and the doors open. VICI emerges from the Falcon, followed by Sgt. Rashid. Any remaining Dark Elves in the area get gunned down the UNCDF Marines. Sgt. Rashid then heads over the Jan and informs him what's going on.

Apparently, Django Lombardi, Cristina Di Stefano, and Abi Flanagan have all been captured by the Dark Elves and taken back to their fleet. A rescue operation is underway, and the Marines are being ordered to storm the fleet, together with Imperial reinforcements. They also have Jan's suit of armor and weapons ready and waiting for him onboard the Falcon.

Jan follows his orders and climbs aboard the Falcon, though Valten and Ulryk also join him. VICI, meanwhile, stays behind, assigned to locate Brandon and evacuate him back to the colony (since he is the son of one of their local allies out on EE-L4 and therefore a VIP; keeping him alive is a priority in order not to compromise The Company™'s relationship with the North over on that planet).

Jan begins suiting up as the Falcon takes off and flies away from the town and out to sea, out towards the main bulk of the Dark Elf fleet.

* * *

 **Demetria:**

Elsewhere, another Falcon shuttle is already flying over the fleet. The Dark Elves have sent a couple dragons flying out to intercept the Falcon, though the pilot fights back with the Falcon's missiles and pulse laser.

In the passenger area of the Falcon, Capt. Demetria Raskalnikova and the Arcturus Legion mercenaries prepare to drop onto the enemy fleet. Except that it's not just the Arcturus Mercs; they have also been joined by several other odd folks: Lord Fyodor Karamazov, the old Inquisitor from the court of the Ice Queen; Lady Sienna Fuegonasus, the Bright Wizard; and introducing a new character, Lyudmila (nicknamed "Mila"), a Kislevite Ice Witch; and reintroducing an older character, Artyom, a young Kislevite squire whom Lt. Pyotr Rasolski took on as an "apprentice" to the mercs (he appears back in the chapter where the Arcturus Mercs fight against the Chaos Warriors horde led by Surtha Lenk). Yeah, as you can imagine, the ensemble described above pretty much embodies the definition of "ragtag bunch of misfits".

The pilot informs them that they're coming up on the main flagship of the fleet. The Falcon flies over the ship, which is actually more aptly described as an entire floating city (which is what a Black Ark kind of is); the rear door opens, and the Arcturus Mercs and their allies drop out, and onto the enormous ship's main deck.

The mercs get to work doing what they do best - lots and lots of shooting, mixed with fire spells from the Bright Wizard, and blasts of ice magic from the Ice Witch. Lots and lots of Dark Elves die.

* * *

 **Hans:**

Aboard the Valkyrie, Captain Hans Müller is watching the various video livefeeds from the battle, acting as a kind of mission control / general in charge of the battle. All Company™ employees wear RFID tags to help track their location; the particular tags worn by Django, Abi, and Cristina indicate that all three of them are aboard the big ship, the "Black Arc".

However, he also knows that all of the Dark Elf ships are carrying hundreds of slaves and prisoners, including many townspeople captured from Salkaten, meaning that bombing the enemy ships out of the water is out of the question. It looks like they're going to have to do this the old fashioned way, clearing out each ship of hostiles, one by one.

* * *

 **The Emperor:**

We needed another chapter of ass-kicking by Karl Franz, so here it is. The Emperor is riding on Deathclaw when he sees a black dragon rider coming up to face him. But of course he's **The Emperor** , wielding **Ghal Maraz** , and so he lays the smackdown on that dragon and its rider. He then dives towards the Black Ark, circling one of the towers and smashing all the Dark Elf archers and soldiers on that tower. Then he swoops low along the deck, Deathclaw's massive claws slashing at and grabbing any Dark Elf warrior standing in their way.

During all of his performing aerial acrobatics, we learn that The Emperor is eagerly trying out some new technology: a radio headset he's using to communicate both with the "command ship" (the Valkyrie), and with his fellow griffon riders. Their coordination proves lethally effective, and Karl Franz makes a note to himself that he needs to get more radios for The Empire. Radio is a technological innovation that will change The Empire perhaps even far more than any firearm ever could!

* * *

 **VICI:**

VICI approaches the central citadel of the City of Salkaten, where all the townspeople who escaped the Dark Elves have fled to take shelter.

He suddenly stops. His scanners have failed to detect the unique thermal signatures belonging to Subject Stark and Subject Summer (as these two organics have inhabited the Colony of Crimson Equinox now for several months, VICI would recognize their unique thermal signatures, and as we know from VENI in Book1, Nexus-8 units possess this capability).

VICI concludes that there is a significantly lower probability than anticipated that Subject Stark will indeed be present there. Instead, VICI concludes that there is a high probability that Subject Stark may have deviated from the original planned route disclosed by Subject Adamsen. Mission parameters altered. VICI turns around and runs back to the waterfront.

* * *

 **Brandon:**

Even though Jan told him to run and seek shelter, Bran has instead decided to do something else.

Specifically, he has been having visions again, similar to the raven that first called him to this world (fun fact: why did Bran come to this world? Because a raven in his visions told him to come. Who is this raven? We're about to find out). So now Bran is hearing voices in his head calling out to him, from somewhere not too far away. Bran heads towards the source of this voice, looking for its owner.

With Summer's help, Bran is able to sneak onboard a Dark Elf corsair ship as it leaves Salkaten and heads back to the main fleet, full of prisoners. Bran and Summer manage to find a place on the ship to hide while they make the short voyage. Up ahead, he can hear the voice in his head calling out to him becoming stronger and stronger with each passing minute.

Just then, Bran and Summer's hiding spot is discovered by a pair of corsairs. The two corsairs attempt to seize Bran and lock him up with the other prisoners. Bran, panicked, suddenly unveils his power as a latent psyker: he wargs into Summer, who then goes BERSERK, and manages to maul two corsairs to death (how did the Direwolf manage to kill two Dark Elf corsairs? He was probably being helped by powerful magic at work...).

Bran feels a rush of emotions all at once: amazement at what he's done, shock, anger, fear, exhilaration, and even... _joy_ at the power he has just demonstrated. Before he can do anything else, however, the "thaumic power regulator" that Dr. Di Stefano implanted in him to prevent "thaumic overload" is activated (remember that from many chapters ago?). Bran's use of warging is apparently hitting "dangerous levels of thaumic activity", causing the regulator to kick in and knock him unconscious. Summer howls.


	81. Out Of Bodies

**Out Of Bodies**

 **Brandon:**

Last we saw him, Bran was knocked unconscious when the "thaumic regulator" surgically implanted into him activated due to Bran starting to use dangerous levels of raw uncontained magic. Here's what happens next.

Bran wakes up, feeling drowsy and strange. His vision eventually clears, except that... he's not Bran anymore. He's Summer! Bran's body is lying unconscious, out cold, in a room aboard a corsair ship. Summer, meanwhile, is up and active. Bran is in Summer's body (hence, let's just call him "Summer" from here on), and then goes running around the ship, looking for a place to escape and/or also looking for a way to find the source of the voices he was hearing in his head.

(This is definitely one of the weirder / more "out there" chapters in this story, as the narrative voice is confused over _who_ exactly is the POV character here. I mean, it's Summer, and it's Bran; it's both of them at the same time, and yet it's neither of them at the same time too. It certainly seems to have a slightly/very different personality from Bran. Yeah, I'm still unclear on how the whole warging deal works, especially where the influence of Chaos *might* be involved, but let's just bear with it.)

As Summer emerges onto the deck of the ship, he sees the full extent of the chaos of the battle all around him (and if this were a TV show, this probably would be one of the most visually impressive shots in the entire series, as we see, from Summer's point-of-view, a single long, tracking and panning shot as he rushes up through the door and out onto the deck and looks around - he's on a ship, there are all kinds of other ships all around. Some of these other ships are burning. There are all kinds of creatures - dragons, griffons, the Sky-People's falcon-ships, etc. - flying around in the sky. And there are all kinds of noises being heard - waves crashing, swords clanging, guns firing, dragons roaring, griffons screeching, aircraft zooming by, and so on. It's INSANE!).

Summer sees that there are maybe 8 or 9 Dark Elves out on the deck of the ship: these are its remaining crew (as the rest were all killed during the fighting in Salkaten; the only other people on the ship are all the prisoners who are locked up down in the cargo hold). Two Imperial griffons swoop by, tearing 6 of the corsairs apart; the remaining 3 are too distracted by the griffons that they don't notice Summer sneaking up behind them.

Summer takes advantage of this to run up and pounce on them. The direwolf goes mad, mauling all 3 of them apart. And yes, if you're wondering how a direwolf is able to maul 3 elves apart (elves who presumably have elven senses, elven weapons, and centuries of battle experience), remember that he may *possibly* be getting help from an outside source. While all of this is going on, Bran/Summer is hearing the voice in his head encouraging him onwards, telling him that "embracing the power" yields great rewards to those who are worthy.

The corsair ship is now empty; the only ones left aboard are all the prisoners locked below in the cargo hold, and Bran's unconscious body. Satisfied that Bran's body will be safe for now, Summer sets out, jumping into the ocean and swimming towards the big ship (the Black Ark), a few hundred meters away.

* * *

 **VICI:**

Back at Salkaten, another Dark Elf corsair ship is leaving the port, heading back to the fleet, full of prisoners. Now that they're half a mile from the shore, the corsair captain relaxes a bit, eager to count the spoils and wondering what the slaves they've taken today will be worth.

Just then, a mysterious figure emerges from the water and climbs aboard the ship. The figure politely introduces himself and explains, frankly and openly, that he will be commandeering the use of this vessel - he concedes with some reservation the fact that a sailing ship can move faster than his organic platform was designed to be capable of swimming.

The corsair captain is of course confused and outraged, and orders all of his crew to attack the intruder.

Several minutes later, having made sure the ship is clear of hostiles, VICI calmly sits back down in the captain's now-vacant seat, and evaluates his position. Good. Just another mile or so until he reaches his destination. VICI takes command of the ship's wheel and steers on.

* * *

 **Malus:**

Malus Darkblade collapses on the floor for a moment, gripping his head in pain. Tz'arkan, the Daemon possessing him, is acting up. This has happened before, and every time, it's excruciatingly painful. Hauclir, Malus's loyal retainer, rushes to his master's side to help him.

Malus gets back to his feet, composes himself, and then continues on his way. Tyr'ale is nowhere to be seen; Malus bitterly thinks to himself that she's probably run away from the battle to go fuck that Asurian girl or her new _Mon'Keigh_ girlfriend again. (As we know, Malus is still bitter about Tyr'ale having been given co-command of the fleet).

Upon reaching outside, Malus calls for his loyal steed - his Cold One, Spite - and mounts up. He then rides off across the Black Ark, leading the counterattack against these thrice-damned miserable Mon'Keigh who _dare_ challenge the Druchii!

As he rides, though, he can hear Tz'arkan, mocking him, reminding him that these savages clearly aren't as inferior as he holds them to be, judging from the state of the battle. Tz'arkan then discloses that he is calling out to one of them right now, one of them who is a latent psyker with great potential, and has the benefit of not being trained/experienced in resisting Daemonic influence that most other psykers of this level would have.

* * *

 **Nobunaga:**

Back in Tokyo, Nobunaga engages in battle with AJAX. And boy, have you guys been waiting for a fight like this!

Ever since I first introduced robots into this story, I knew that sooner or later, we would get a proper, full-on robot vs. robot fight. Sure, earlier in this story we had a little of that when Nobunaga rescued Dom and Ellen at Tech Noir, but the older Nexus-06 models were badly outclassed by TEC's MITA line. A Nexus-08, on the other hand, is much tougher and more able to put up a fight against a MITA.

Point is, this is meant to be an _intense_ battle. We have an unstoppable force meeting an immoveable object, as two seemingly indestructible robots slug it out. They're not just throwing punches and kicks; they're physically picking each other up and throwing each other across the room, smashing each other through walls, destroying furniture, even ripping ceramic fixtures out of the bathroom (like entire sinks and toilets) and using those as improvised weapons... yeah, SEAGA is really going to need to do some interior remodeling and redecorating after these two are done!

At some point, AJAX quite literally pulls out a _kitchen sink_ out of the office cafeteria's kitchen to use as a weapon.

* * *

 **VICI:**

VICI identifies the thermal signature of a body that matches the profile of Subject Stark. The body is located on a vessel not too far from the one he has politely commandeered from the Dark Elves, and appears to be inactive. He pilots his vessel towards that one, and then, when the two ships are close enough, he leaps across with a rope and ties the two ships together.

VICI then calls Capt. Müller to inform him of his whereabouts, and informs them that these two ships have been cleared of all hostiles, and that he will demarcate them. The only problem is that VICI did not bring any flares with him to mark the two ships, so he instead employs a slightly more _creative_ means: he rearranges the bodies of all the dead Dark Elf crew members to spell out the word KLAR ("clear" in German / Reikspiel) on the deck of the ship (including severing limbs in order to make the bodies fit the letters).

Having ensured that his sign is legible and clearly visible to anyone flying above, VICI heads downstairs to check on the unconscious body of Subject Stark.


	82. Aurelia

**Aurelia**

 **Jan:**

The Falcon shuttle that Jan Adamsen and his squad are riding in lands on the Black Ark. Once the door guns have done their work clearing the Landing Zone of hostiles, all the passengers get out: Sgt. Rashid and his Marines, Markus Kruber and a unit of riflemen, Jan, Valten, and Brother Ulryk.

Sgt. Rashid informs them of the plan: they have been able to track down the locations of all three Company™ hostages, except that they appear to be in two separate locations. Rashid's squad will head to one of these two, while the Arcturus Legion mercenaries will head to the other. The two other Marine squads (there were three in total stationed at Crimson Equinox) will comb the rest of the fleet to look for other prisoners to rescue. Rashid gives the mission briefing in English, though Jan translates it into Reikspiel for the benefit of the non-English speakers with them.

Having made sure that everyone's clear on their mission, Rashid gives the order to move out. As they do so, however, Jan notices something: far away, he can see (thanks to the improved vision bestowed upon him by his cybernetic implants)... why, none other than _Summer_ , Bran's direwolf! What's he doing here? Didn't Jan order Bran and Summer to hide when the Dark Elves attacked? Shit. If Summer is here, then so is Bran.

Jan breaks off from the squad and chases after Summer. Valten joins him. Everyone else is confused by this, and Rashid angrily shouts for Jan to come back, but Jan just ignores him and keeps running.

* * *

 **Aurelia:**

Back in Tyr'ale's private quarters, Aurelia is alone... with the Sky-Person. Tyr'ale is nowhere to be seen, having stormed off to go join the battle. No sooner did Tyr'ale leave when Aurelia immediately got to work.

Tyr'ale is usually very careful, though today, she must have let her guard down for whatever reason (perhaps excitement at finally taking the Sky-People as her prisoners?). While Tyr'ale was busy torturing the Sky-Person, she failed to notice a hairpin that had fallen out of her victim's head.

Aurelia was able to reach out and get hold of the hairpin, conceal it from Tyr'ale, and now she is using the hairpin to pick each of the locks on her four limbs. It's far easier said than done, but she's finally getting there. Once she has freed her hands, it makes the job of picking the locks on her feet so much quicker.

Aurelia gets up. It's almost painful to be free - her legs and arms are sore from being kept laying down for weeks; her wrists and feet are horribly bruised and scarred and rubbed raw where the iron cuffs had restrained her. But at long last, she is free.

The first thing she does now that she is free is to head over to where the Sky-Person is lying and check up on her. Aurelia had been forced to lay there and watch as Tyr'ale tortured and abused this prisoner, and now she's lying there, motionless and silent, not breathing. Aurelia checks her but she already knows deep down that she is dead. Probably from shock.

Aurelia can't help herself but break out in tears.

Growing up in Caledor, having rarely (if ever) met a Human face-to-face before, Aurelia had always been taught that the Asur are superior, that the Humans (or _Mon'Keigh_ as her people call them) are wretched and puny creatures not worthy of anything. She had fought against Humans before in battle, but only from afar and above them, owing to her battlefield role as a dragon rider. Basically, she's never seen a Human up close and personal before. She always thought of Humans as little more than disgusting and lesser beings than the Elves.

But now... having seen this Sky-Person, even if she had hardly known her, and even if she couldn't understand her, nonetheless, Aurelia has come to empathize with her - perhaps she even feels a sense of camaraderie seeing as she too was Tyr'ale's prisoner? Maybe Aurelia feels this way only because Tyr'ale has successfully _broken_ her after weeks of torture and abuse?

Aurelia spends a few minutes searching through the Sky-Person's body and clothing - partly to see if she had anything useful on her, but also just out of curiosity as to just who was this person in life. Aurelia has never met any of the Sky-People before, so the little things she finds in the pockets confuses her. For example, Aurelia finds a MyPhone, and the chapter tries to describe what a MyPhone looks and feels like to an Elf seeing one for the first time.

Among other small personal effects, Aurelia also finds a photograph which shows a group of five happy Sky-People, smiling and relaxing somewhere in a green meadow (readers might recognize the photograph as depicting the holiday in The Shire, from many chapters back, and the people in the photo are Abi Flanagan, Miranda Riversong, Max and Dino, and Christopher Tremblay).

In addition to the photograph, Aurelia also as finds some pieces of paper that have drawings on them, and a letter addressed to someone named "Miranda", which proves that, yes, the poor Sky-Person that Tyr'ale captured and tortured to death is none other than Abigail Flanagan.

Aurelia quickly gets herself dressed; she puts on some clothing (she is in Tyr'ale's bedroom after all, and so she has Tyr'ale's complete wardrobe at her disposal), and then she arms herself with whatever weapons she can find (and remember from many chapters back that Tyr'ale keeps a huge collection of weapons in her room). Just before she leaves, Aurelia takes one last look at Abi's lifeless body.

Aurelia feels greatly saddened and conflicted. But she also feels gratitude towards Abi, knowing that it was Abi's hairpin that allowed her to free herself from these chains. She whispers "thank you" to Abi, and then heads off.

* * *

 **Lokhir:**

Lokhir Fellheart, the Krakenlord, is busy organizing the defense of his precious Black Ark against the enemy boarding parties. He gathers together a group of warriors, and then heads out against one of the enemy forces. One of his retinue includes a group of beast-handlers, who head below deck to unleash their Kharybdis.

* * *

 **Brandon:**

Bran is still warged into Summer, seeing the world through Summer's eyes. The big direwolf mauls his way past several other Dark Elves, seemingly growing stronger and more fearsome after each one. Bran dreads to admit to himself that it feels... _good_. It feels _right_ , having all of this great power and using it! Oh, if only Father could see him now! If only Mother were here! Oh, how he cannot wait to show off his power to his brothers and sisters!

Up ahead, he sees Malus Darkblade, and he knows right away that this is him. _This_ is the voice that has been calling him, the voice he has been hearing in his head!

Just then, Summer hears another voice shouting out to him, a more familiar one. He turns his head and sees Jan and Valten running to him. A teenager and a twenty-something year old man - despite the age difference between them, these are two people that Bran has come to know and befriend over these last few months. He hesitates. He can still hear the voice of the Daemon Tz'arkan calling to him, but now there are new voices in his head, these being the voices of Jan and Valten, telling him to get away from Malus.

Well, perhaps conveniently for him, he never has to choose. At that moment, there is a bright flash, and Bran loses his connection to Summer. He gasps as he wakes up. His head is paining him. He looks around him; he's back in the hold of the corsair ship where they left his body. He looks up and sees VICI standing over him. VICI politely greets Bran, explaining that he has revived him from his coma.


	83. One Winged Angel

**One-Winged Angel**

 **Valten:**

Valten and Jan Adamsen, assisted by Summer, fight against Malus Darkblade. Malus is riding upon Spite, his Cold One, is wielding the Warpsword Of Khaine, and he also has his retainer Hauclir fighting alongside him. So, to put it mildly, it's actually a pretty even fight.

Jan opens fire with his assault rifle, killing Spite and wounding Malus in the leg. Malus, though, is still able to leap off and slash at Jan with the Warpsword. Jan manages to avoid getting slashed, but Malus succeeds in hitting the assault rifle; the magically-empowered sword cleaves the gun in half and even partially melts it. Jan is reduced to melee fighting.

The fight rages on.

Hauclir gets slain by Valten, prompting Malus to go berserk - Hauclir was always a loyal retainer to Malus, and for a Dark Elf, that's saying something.

At some point, after a prolonged battle, Jan manages to wound Malus with a grenade, and Valten strikes Malus in the head with a club, knocking him unconscious. Valten is about to deliver a killing blow when Malus suddenly wakes up again and leaps back into action, even stronger and more vicious than before! Because this time it's not Malus they're fighting: it's **Tz'arkan**! With Malus knocked unconscious, Tz'arkan has been able to take control of Malus's body.

The fight rages on, pitting Tz'arkan and all his Daemonic power against just Jan, Valten, and Summer. And they are losing. Badly, as Tz'arkan is more powerful than Malus ever was.

The fight rages on, but Tz'arkan is far too powerful, wounding Jan, cutting off Valten's right hand, and then to top it all off, killing Summer. Indeed, Tz'arkan is _especially_ spiteful towards Summer, making sure to twist the blade a little when killing the direwolf; perhaps he is frustrated by his failure to seduce Bran into embracing Chaos. (And yes, I know it was VICI, not Summer, who stopped Bran from embracing Tz'arkan, but look, he's a Daemon, so he'll take his anger out on anybody!).

Valten, reeling from shock, pain, blood-loss, and distraught by the death of Summer, is just laying there, weakened and unable to fight back, while Tz'arkan stands above him, triumphant. Valten, defiant to the end, challenges Tz'arkan to kill him. Just get it over with already! Tz'arkan, however, is not interested in killing Valten; instead, he wants to keep him alive so that instead Valten can be corrupted into serving Chaos.

And then, when all hope seems lost, a shadow falls upon them. Valten weakly looks up to see Karl Franz swooping in on Deathclaw, Ghal Maraz glowing brightly in his hands. The Emperor joins the battle, beating the shit out of Tz'arkan and then, with a final swing of Ghal Maraz, he smites that Daemon, ending him once and for all, and destroying Malus's body.

Valten then passes out. (Yeah, this chapter ends on a bit of a downer, with Summer dead and Valten losing his hand and also coming to the depressing realization that _maybe_ Karl Franz, and not him, is Sigmar Reborn!).

* * *

 **Demetria:**

The Arcturus Mercs and their allies come under attack from a Kharybdis. Working together, they manage to kill it: Mila The Ice Witch uses her ice magic to freeze one of its heads; Sienna the Bright Wizard uses her fire magic to burn one of the other heads; and the rest of the heads get shot up or blown up by the Arcturus Mercs using guns and rocket launchers.

* * *

 **Sgt. Rashid:**

Sgt. Tully Rashid leads his fireteam towards their target, a large tower. However, due to encountering resistance along the way, Rashid has had to order the other Marines to disperse and secure the area, so now it's just Rashid leading a team of three: himself, Pvt. Thompson (minor character), and Brother Ulryk.

And then, Tyr'ale Soulreaver appears, flying on the back of her dragon, Firaxes. We get a battle pitting 2 UNCDF Marines and a knight against a black dragon. The dragon's thick scales are difficult even for the 7.62mm rounds to penetrate, although they still manage to injure the dragon with grenades. However, Firaxes manages to kill Pvt. Thompson by grabbing him in its jaws and throwing him hard against a wall so that Thompson breaks his spine.*

Nonetheless, Firaxes is already bleeding profusely from numerous bulletholes, and Pvt. Rashid and Ulryk manage to finish off the dragon: Rashid keeps on firing bullets and grenades at the dragon, and Ulryk makes little slashes and cuts at the dragon with his sword, and eventually it bleeds to death from all the little cuts and wounds.

Tyr'ale Soulreaver is _livid_ about the death of her dragon, and leaps down onto the ground and continues the fight on foot.

* * *

*(I'm debating whether or not a dragon can bite through Ballistics Armor without breaking its teeth; remember that UNCDF Ballistics Armor is much stronger than modern Kevlar and can at the minimum stop a 7.62mm round. If we assume that a dragon the size and strength of Firaxes has a bite force at least as strong as a _Tyrannosaurus Rex_ (and probably stronger), that's about 431,000 psi, which is much more than the 51,000 psi exerted by a modern 7.62x39mm round, but is that strong enough to penetrate futuristic armor? I'm sure someone can do the math. Whatever the case may be, UNCDF armor is _definitely_ ineffective against kinetic impacts like falling or being thrown, as demonstrated when Phil fell to his death during the first raid on Isengard, or when Jeff was critically injured at Pelennor Fields when a Fell Beast picked him up and threw him).


	84. Domo Arigato, Mr Fukushitsu

**Domo Arigato, Mr. Fukushitsu**

 **Mr. Fukushitsu:**

In his office, Fukushitsu continues his work on his computer, feeling the pressure as Dom and Ellen get closer and closer to him, fighting their way through the floors below him.

Having cleared the final firewall, now it's just a matter of uploading the code, which will take 5 minutes. Damn, not enough time. He can already hear gunfire in the hallway right outside his office. Fukushitsu takes another look at the security camera footage and guesses that Dom and Ellen will be here in less than two minutes.

He decides to pack up his personal computer into his briefcase, and hope that the upload will continue while he's on his way.

* * *

 **Torrin:**

In orbit over Planet EE-L5, Lt. Torrin Holmen is sitting in the pilot's seat of a Valkyrie shuttle, preparing a payload to drop onto the Army Of Mordor as an absolute last resort.

The plan is that, should the order be given, the Valkyrie is going to accelerate, and then drop several small tungsten rods out of its cargo bay. These rods will enter the atmosphere, accelerating to hypersonic speeds, and impact Pelennor Fields with enough force to turn most of Mordor's remaining army to pulp.

The main problem is that this operation is highly delicate and requires the utmost accuracy, and even then, the risk of collateral damage inflicted upon Minas Tirith remains high, which is why the UN has been hesitant to employ this tactic up until the very end. She's just waiting for the order to begin her attack run...

* * *

 **Dominic:**

Dominic Kobori and Ellen Kovacs enter Mr. Fukushitsu's office, only to find that it's empty, as he has already fled. Presumably, he's heading up to the roof, where there's a getaway hover-car ready to take him away.

Ellen quickly uses her specially-modified MyPhone to connect with SEAGA's network and notices that the scrap code is still installing, meaning that Fukushitsu must be doing it remotely. She and Dominic head off after Mr. Fukushitsu, running up the stairs to the roof, hoping to catch him before it's too late.

* * *

 **Sgt. Rashid:**

Tyr'ale Soulreaver proves to be quite a dangerous adversary, as even though she is armed with just arrows and a sword, she still manages to put up a fight against a trained UNCDF Marine and an experienced knight of The Empire.

Sgt. Rashid runs out of ammo (since he already used most of it, either against other Dark Elves, or against Firaxes The Dragon), and so is forced to resort to grenades and melee combat. At some point, Ulryk is wounded during the fight, and Rashid is forced to battle Tyr'ale one-on-one.

Tyr'ale manages to overpower Rashid and knock him down. Rashid looks up to see Tyr'ale grinning menacingly down at him, taking a moment to savor her victory before delivering the killing blow, almost as if she were deriving pleasure from it.

And then, the look on her face abruptly changes. Her face goes blank, her mouth starts foaming, and she collapses onto the floor. Rashid sees an arrow protruding from the back of her neck. He looks up and sees another Elven woman, different from the other Dark Elves, who is standing some ways behind Tyr'ale, holding a bow. He also notices that the Elven woman has tears in her eyes. This, ladies and gentlemen, is Aurelia, and she is repaying Tyr'ale for everything she was made to suffer these last few weeks.


	85. All's Fell That Ends Fell

**All's Fell That Ends Fell**

 **Theodred:**

The Witch-King is slain, and the Mordor Army has lost hundreds of thousands of troops. There's only one small problem: the Mordor Army _still_ has reserves. Lots and lots of reserves.

Although the core of the Mordor Army has been destroyed by the Gondor Army, by the UNCDF, and by the Rohan cavalry, there are still thousands of troops in reserve, including most of the Easterlings and Haradrim. King Theodred can see them, in the distance, although it looks like they've halted, probably to rest and recover and reorganize their forces for another attack.

Theodred also sees the UNCDF Marines approaching him. Sgt. Rico warns Theodred that all the Rohirrim should retreat into Minas Tirith and take cover, because the UN is preparing to deploy their "absolute last resort" (an orbital strike) to take out the remainder of the Mordor Army, and Theodred and his forces best take cover when that happens.

Just then, another Fell Beast appears in the air. Another Ringwraith? Theodred and the Marines stand at attention and pull out their weapons, expecting another fight. The Fell Beast lands, and its riders dismount. There are two of them, two Orcs dressed in what look to be uniforms indicative of a Mordorian commander. And then, strangely, one of the Orcs steps forward and... offers to _surrender_.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, these two are none other than Krash and Lunk. With the Witch-King dead, Krash and Lunk have taken command of Mordor's army, and now they offer to stand down. They're tired of fighting and just want it all to stop.

* * *

 **Django:**

Cristina Di Stefano is awake now, and she's crying - though who can blame her after what she's just gone through? Django, also bloodied and battered after their experience, is also in tears, and two hug each other for comfort, now that they've been left alone in the torture chamber.

Just then, Django hears the doors opening yet again. Cristina is frightened, knowing that their tormentors have returned, and so too is Django. They hold onto each other for dear life, wondering if they should take their own lives rather than go through all that again.

And then, the doors are opened fully and in steps... the Arcturus Mercs. Capt. Demetria sees Django and Cristina and remarks with amazement that they're still alive. Django breaks down sobbing, realizing that it's all over.

* * *

 **Dominic:**

Dominic and Ellen, having pursued Mr. Fukushitsu up the stairs, emerge out onto the roof. They are standing on top of the pyramid, 3km above ground level. The city of Tokyo stretches out all around them. The horizon to the east is glowing warmly as the sun will rise soon.

Just then, a gunshot is heard. Dom takes cover. Mr. Fukushitsu has a gun, and is shooting at them. Dom fires back, but he also sees that Ellen has been hit and wounded. He panics.

Suddenly, a hover-car appears, hovering right next to the edge of the rooftop. This is Mr. Fukushitsu's getaway vehicle. Mr. Fukushitsu runs for the car, still carrying his briefcase. Dom is faced with a hard choice: he can stop his boss from getting away, or he can stop to help Ellen.

He chooses the latter. Dom rushes to Ellen's side. She's still alive, as the special suits given to them by TEC offer a high level of protection, though the bullet still injured her. She and Dom stare on helplessly as Fukushitsu runs up to the hover-car. The door slides open, revealing...

AJAX! Dom and Ellen gasp. It looks like AJAX won the robot battle, and now Mr. Fukushitsu is getting away!

Except, on a closer look, it appears that AJAX's face is blank and expressionless and not moving at all. And then, AJAX falls forward, out of the hovercar, and crumples onto the roof right at Fukushitsu's feet. AJAX's body is motionless, a gaping hole in his back highly visible, exposing all his internal wiring and machinery.

Instead, also sitting in the hovercar, right behind where AJAX was sitting, is Nobunaga! As it turns out, Nobunaga emerged victorious in his fight against AJAX, found out about Fukushitsu's escape plan, and proceeded to intercept the getaway car sent to pick him up.

Fukushitsu panics at the sight of Nobunaga, and then turns around to run. But before he can do that, Nobunaga lunges out of the car with superhuman speed, grabs him, and drags him back into the car. Fukushitsu screams for help, and drops the briefcase he's carrying.

Nobunaga politely thanks Dominic and Ellen for all their help, instructs them on the shutdown procedure for the scrap-code, and then, just like that, he leaves; the door of the hovercar closes shut, cutting off Fukushitsu's screaming, and the car drives off into the early morning Tokyo sky, leaving Dom and Ellen standing alone on the roof of SEAGA World Headquarters.


	86. Battle Report 10

**AFTER ACTION REPORT:  
The Raid On SEAGA World Headquarters**

 **Participants** : The Company™ Loyalists + the Technology Energy Conglomeration (TEC) vs. The Company™ traitors

 **Location** : Block 38, Shimizu-3 Pyramid, Tokyo Harbor, Tokyo Prefecture, Empire Of Japan.

 **Result** : decisive The Company™ / TEC victory.

 **Summary** :

For months now, we have suspected that a saboteur was active in the EE System, although for some reason, we were never able to figure out who it was. Now we know that one of the Board members is a mole, who has been deliberately aiding this saboteur and pulling whatever strings he can to maintain the saboteur's cover. It has also come to light that several other saboteurs are active in other divisions and subsidiaries across The Company™.

Just the day before, Director Dominic Kobori, a high-ranking officer of Company™ subsidiary SEAGA Games & Entertainment, was attending a meeting of the Board in Toronto. While on his way back to Tokyo, Dir. Kobori was contacted by Agent Ellen Kovacs, who warned him of a conspiracy within The Company™, and of the possible involvement of his boss, Mr. Fukushitsu. Dir. Kobori and Agent Kovacs traveled to Tokyo to investigate further.

However, Mr. Fukushitsu found out about their eavesdropping, and sent two Nexus-06 units after them. Dir. Kobori and Agent Kovacs only survived thanks to the intervention of TEC, who sent their own agent, a MITA unit designated "Nobunaga" (presumably named after 16th century Japanese _Daimyo_ Oda Nobunaga), to intervene. Nobunaga then brought Dom and Ellen to TEC's Tokyo headquarters, where they met the high-ranking TEC leader known under the pseudonym "Kobayashi". Kobayashi disclosed that TEC had known about these activities for a while, and offered a collaboration with The Company™. Dom and Ellen reluctantly agreed.

During this time, Dom and Ellen, using data that they had earlier recovered from their surreptitious eavesdropping on Mr. Fukushitsu, were able to pinpoint the identity of the EE System saboteur as Mr. Christopher Tremblay. Ellen sent a secret message to the staff in the EE System warning of Mr. Tremblay's treachery, but it arrived too late to prevent him from committing further acts of sabotage and escaping. His current whereabouts are unknown.

At around the same time, Mr. Fukushitsu, aware that he had been compromised, began initiating a purge of confidential data files at SEAGA and preparing to flee to safety before The Company™ came after him. TEC learned about this, and informed Dom and Ellen that they had precious little time to act.

Dom, Ellen, and Nobunaga infiltrated SEAGA headquarters to stop and capture Mr. Fukushitsu. The traitorous director set SEAGA's extensive security systems against them, including Oculus Drones, Zipdroids, and even a Nexus-08 unit designated "AJAX". In large part thanks to Nobunaga's assistance as well as the weapons that TEC gave them, Dom and Ellen were able to fight their way through the office building and chase down and confront Mr. Fukushitsu, although Ellen was injured during the pursuit.

Nobunaga captured Mr. Fukushitsu, and brought him into TEC custody, though before leaving, he instructed Dom and Ellen in how to stop and reverse Mr. Fukushitsu's sabotage.

 **Aftermath:**

The Company™ Board, of course, was enraged when they found out about this incident, and Supreme Directress Adrienne Kovacs has ordered a crackdown. Two other board members have since disappeared, these being Mr. Domenech Belleville, and another board member whose identity is not disclosed; it is believed that one of these two individuals is also a traitor, and that the other one was murdered by the traitor to cover his tracks.

The CEO was also furious that her daughter was nearly killed, and traveled to Tokyo personally to check up on her, and to investigate the scene of the crime for herself.

We have declared a "holiday" for all of their employees at SEAGA, and promptly dispatched cleanup teams to clean up and cover up the mess left by the battle that raged throughout much of Block 38. Fortunately, because Mr. Fukushitsu was never able to complete his sabotage of SEAGA's mainframes, most of these servers are still up, and most of the valuable data is backed up. All told, the combined effects of Mr. Fukushitsu's sabotage and the damage dealt during the battle is heavy, and will set SEAGA back by weeks, but it is nowhere near as catastrophic as it could have been, thanks to the efforts of Dom and Ellen, and the intervention of TEC.

How this incident will affect our relations with TEC on the other hand remain up in the air. TEC's assistance was invaluable, and without their help, Mr. Fukushitsu's sabotage would never have been exposed until far too late. On the other hand, we understand now that TEC was ultimately helping us not out of any noble sense of altruism, but in order to further their own agenda - namely, to pressure us into greater concessions towards TEC in the establishment of TEC colonies in the EE System, and sharing of "practical thaumiturgy" technology being developed at out facilities in the system. While we are appreciative of TEC's help in averting what could have been a major disaster for The Company™, at the same time we are annoyed at TEC's stubbornness and refusal to extradite Mr. Fukushitsu to Company™ custody.

Officially, we have reported to the public and to the news media that we have decided, on the fly, to renovate SEAGA's office located in Block 38 of the Shimizu-3 Pyramid in Tokyo, and that all the employees there will be given 2 week's paid vacation time (and will also subtly and politely be reminded of the Non-Disclosure Agreements contained in fine print on each Company™ contract, and the considerable costs and personal misery that subsequent litigation over a breach of this provision might incur).

Meanwhile, to further aid in the cover-up of this incident, agents of the Office Of Sabotage have deliberately fomented highly-exaggerated and factually inaccurate accounts of what happened at SEAGA to various online conspiracy chatgroups. By deliberating disseminating false rumors as to what happened in Block 38, they hope they can maintain some control over the narrative, while also making it look as though those who know what _really_ happened at Block 38 are just crazy conspiracy theorists.

For his heroic actions and general history of diligent and competent service rendered in the name of SEAGA, Mr. Dominic Kobori is being considered for replacement of Mr. Fukushitsu.

In the meantime, however, for their safety, Mr. Kobori and Agent Kovacs have been sent to a secret Company™ location for the time being.


	87. Battle Report 11

**AFTER ACTION REPORT**

 **The Battle Of Salkaten**

 **Participants** : The Company™ + UNCDF + The Empire + various other local allies vs. The Dark Elves (DE).

 **Location** : just off the coast of Salkaten, Ostland Province, The Empire.

 **Result** : decisive Allied victory; destruction of the DE fleet.

 **Summary:**

The report begins by expressing condolences for the deaths of several Terran people during this battle, notably, Abi Flanagan, as well as the UNCDF Marines Pvt. Thompson, Pvt. Morrison, and Pvt. Kinney, as well as the injury and emotional distress suffered by Dir. Lombardi and Dr. Di Stefano.

It seems that the earlier battle fought in the Forest Of Shadows during the construction of the roadlink to Salkaten was more than a mere raiding party. It was, in fact, the advance recon party for an entire DE war fleet! Learning a little more about the Terrans' abilities during that battle, the DE realized that they could not defeat the Terrans through conventional means, and instead sought out alternative ways to fight them.

The DE attacked Salkaten hoping to achieve the following: (a) capture Company™ personnel (the DE expected, based on the construction of the road to Salkaten, that Terrans would be present in the city, or else why invest so much effort to build the road?) for use as hostages; (b) distract the Terrans while a second raiding party made its way overland towards the colony; (c) sow terror among the people and try to break the people's morale; and (d) capture additional slaves.

Several Company™ personnel who were indeed in Salkaten were captured, incl. Director Lombardi, Dr. Di Stefano, and Ms. Flanagan. The three of them, along with hundreds of captured townspeople, were taken to the DE's main fleet, specifically, the massive warship known as _The Tower Of Blessed Dread_ , which appears to be a class of warship called a "Black Ark" which is more appropriately called a floating castle than a ship.

There, Lombardi, Stefano, and Flanagan were imprisoned and tortured. The report goes on to condemn the DE for these actions, and also mention that it's rather telling of the DE's culture that they had valuable hostages, and still decided to torture them anyway, including one of them to death (although it is unclear at this moment whether Ms. Flanagan's death was intentional or not; post-mortem medical examinations of Ms. Flanagan show that she died mainly from shock, so it is possible that Tyr'ale Soulreaver tortured her but did not intend to kill her, or that Tyr'ale got carried away in the course of her actions. It is also possible that Humans and Elves have different tolerances to pain that Tyr'ale forgot about).

The Battle Of Salkaten is The Company™/UNCDF's largest military operation in the system to date (even though more troops were involved in the Battle Of Pelennor Fields, most of those troops fighting on both sides were natives; this battle is "the largest" insofar as it has involved the largest number of Company™ and UNCDF personnel). It also holds the rather dubious honor of being the most haphazard and least organized, having been mobilized quite literally "on the fly" in rapid response to the capture of their personnel. This is why some of the troop deployments seem rather bizarre and unconventional: the deployment of a squadron of griffon riders from a Valkyrie shuttle in mid-air; and the mixing of a lot of highly _irregular_ units (incl. but not limited to: a highly advanced android, a village blacksmith, a direwolf, a Kislevite Inquisitor, a Bright Wizard, and an Ice Witch) among the regular combat units.

In spite of all of this, it worked... for the most part. Unfortunately, they still suffered casualties. In addition to Ms. Flanagan, several Marines were either KIA or WIA in various ways during the battle, and two Arcturus Mercs were injured as well. In addition, The Company™'s "Crimson Guard" native militia suffered heavy casualties, although thanks to the leadership of Captain Markus Kruber, as well as the experience from the previous battle in the woods, the Guard did much better.

The Company™'s Imperial allies suffered hefty losses as well, namely, the town guard and townspeople of Salkaten. Finally, losses among the DE's prisoners and slaves were also considerable, though this is attributed more to the DEs themselves, as they would often kill their own prisoners out of spite or rage or attempt to use them as human shields. Even though The Company™ and UNCDF were careful to try and avoid collateral damage (example: no bombing and no use of incendiaries), many prisoners still died.

Granted, the losses suffered by the enemy were much higher.

The report notes that flashbang grenades were particularly useful, as they incapacitated the DE (who are biologically much more sensitive than Humans) while not killing any of the prisoners. The main regret is that at this battle, they used up pretty much the entire supply of flashbangs (because there were a lot of Elves!), so they need to either manufacture them locally, or await further resupply from Earth.

The report also notes the DE's deployment of several monstrous units, including black dragons, Cold Ones, hydras, a Kharybdis, and a Bloodwrack Medusa. On one hand, these creatures can be killed with conventional weaponry, but they are very large, durable, and can take a lot of damage. One of the dragons managed to kill Pvt. Thompson when it picked him up and threw him.

The report also notes the presence of a Daemon on the battlefield (Tz'arkan), which is significant as this is the Terrans' first encounter with a "Chaos" being of this magnitude. Fortunately, it was dispatched by the Emperor, who possesses a powerful thaumically-active artifact of his own, Ghal Maraz, and the report ponders on how much damage this creature could have wrought had the Emperor not been present to take it down.

Following the battle, the second DE raiding party, numbering several hundred individuals, was detected moving through the forest towards the colony, thanks to the network of motion trackers and recon drones that The Company™ had set up throughout the forest, constantly patrolling the area around the colony. As the main battle going on over at Salkaten was already over, the UNCDF was able to divert two Falcon gunships and a squad of Marines to handle this secondary threat. Having ensured that no other Terran personnel were in the area, the Falcons bombed the area of the woods where the DE party was located with incendiaries, inflicting heavy losses on the advancing DE party. Those that survived pressed on and finally made it to the colony - only to be greeted by the Lombardi-Saito Wall, the huge concrete fortification they erected around the colony, equipped with automated turret defenses and manned by those elements of the UNCDF and native militia who had either remained at the colony, or were able to be flown back after the actions at Salkaten were over.

 **Aftermath:**

Although they emerged victorious, The Company™ is shaken, shocked, and angered by this turn of events. Not least of all by the deaths of several UNCDF and Company™ personnel, as well as the trauma inflicted on Dir. Lombardi and Dr. Di Stefano. Arrangements are now being made to ensure that the families of the affected individuals are informed and compensated. The report also mentions that it is known that Ms. Abigail Flanagan was romantically involved with Ms. Miranda Riversong.

Capt. Müller and Dir. Saito have temporarily taken over the colony while Dir. Lombardi recovers. The report questions whether Lombardi will be able to return to duty after his experiences, and whether transfer elsewhere should be considered for him. Likewise for Dr. Di Stefano, whose work may have to be left unfinished if she is unable to return. The report considers alternative postings on the other EE planets, such as L5 and L3, as well as a possible return to Earth.

Several thousand prisoners and slaves were rescued from the DE fleet; after the battle, they were taken to Salkaten and housed there, while The Empire and The Company™ are making arrangements on what to do next. Thanks to their experiences at Isengard, The Company™ is slowly starting to learn a little on how to handle large-scale humanitarian disasters. The mass of prisoners recovered from the DE ships include a mix of Imperials, Dwarves, Kislevites, Bretons, Estalians, Tileans, Arabyans, Southlanders, and even a few Cathayans and Nipponese. Efforts will be made to integrate the Imperials back into The Empire, but it is not known at this moment what should be done about the others.

The DE prisoners rescued also included one High Elf who identifies herself by the name "Aurelia Maeteris Of Caledor". She was the one who is responsible for killing Tyr'ale Soulreaver, motivated in large part by vengeance for the torment she suffered at Tyr'ale's hands - it is also believed the Aurelia personally witnessed the death of Ms. Flanagan. We have since taken this individual into our custody for further questioning. She may be a useful person to have on hand when we eventually send a mission to contact Ulthuan.

The DE's timing in attacking Salkaten when several Company™ personnel were present was almost perfect; the report speculates as to whether this was just a remarkable coincidence, or if there is something more sinister going on, that somehow the DE have a means of keeping an eye on the colony. The report ponders on whether the living DE specimens captured from the earlier battle in the forest (incl. the sorceress, Morinth) may somehow have some psychic connection to other Elves. The report mentions that Flanagan and Di Stefano in particular, as members of the Biology Dept., worked closely on the specimens. The report recommends that a closer examination be made of the DE specimens, and that stricter measures be taken to isolate them, including transfer to a new facility on one of the other worlds if necessary.

The impromptu deployment of The Emperor and his griffon-riders via Valkyrie has raised an interesting possibility about the future of "magic creature paradrops" which should be explored to greater detail in future.

Although great effort was invested into the security of the colony following the battle against the Beastmen, including the construction of a wall, this battle shows that greater security measures will have to be undertaken to protect Company™ staff while they are outside the colony, as well as greater efforts in searching for and detecting enemy forces from afar. The weather satellites currently rely on visual observation, but now that it's clear that some enemies are able to manipulate local weather to provide cloud cover to their movements, it is clear that moving forward, satellites should also rely more on thermal scanning. The report also mentions that due to the great progress made in thaumaturgy over the last few months, it may be feasible to equip satellite with thaumic-scanning technology within the year.

This unprovoked and shocking attack by the DE, together with the DE's treatment of Human prisoners, shows that the DE are an extremely hostile race. Naggaroth will, in future, be officially regarded as a "state sponsor of terrorism". The report mentions consulting with The Company™'s Office Of Legal Counsel (OLC) as to the legal status of Naggaroth, and they have concluded that Naggaroth is indeed a "state" for all intents and purposes, as it does contain all the necessary features of a "state", including recognizable territory, population, and a central governing authority. Therefore, Naggaroth may be treated as a "sovereign state" rather than a "non-state actor" for applicable international law to be applied.

Ambassador Alpers, acting in his capacity as the UN's representative in the system, has issued a 90-day executive action permitting The Company™ and any other Terran entities (govt. or corporate) operating on EE-L0 to implement any policies necessary to safeguard their people against DE attacks. If this action gets ratified by the UN Security Council, then it will become permanent policy. The Company™ is confident that the UNSC will ratify the Ambassador's executive action, and will begin talks with the UN and with The Empire on what is to be done concerning the threat posed by Naggaroth. It seems that diplomacy may be out of the question.

On one hand, it is unlikely that a military invasion of Naggaroth will occur anytime too soon; even with the imminent arrival of the _Joseph Conrad_ , the UNCDF and Company™ does not possess enough military forces in the system to launch a major ground invasion, and even if they could, what would be the objectives? Remove Malekith from power and then what? It would be like Iraq all over again except on a much larger scale.

For now, The Company™ agrees that, _officially_ , the best solution to work out with the UN would be to implement a maritime "no-fly zone" against Naggaroth aimed at isolating the DE from the rest of the world and stopping the raids, as well as adopting a set of sanctions to be levied at anyone found to be trading and dealing with the DE. However, _unofficially_ , The Company™ has begun exploring different options for a secretive punitive mission to be sent out against the DE.


	88. Battle Report 12

**AFTER ACTION REPORT:**

 **The Battle Of Pelennor Fields**

 **Participants** : The Kingdom Of Gondor + The Company™ + The UNCDF + The Kingdom Of Rohan vs. The Forces Of Mordor

 **Location** : Pelennor Fields, area around the City Of Minas Tirith, Kingdom Of Gondor.

 **Result** : decisive Allied victory; Minas Tirith saved; Mordorian expeditionary forces annihilated.

 **Summary** :

Mordor began the offensive campaign against Gondor with a field army numbering some 500,000 troops. Between hit-and-run raids carried out by Gondor during the march through Ithelien, as well as the Battle Of Osgiliath, Mordor lost somewhere in the range of about 150,000 troops, but that still left them 350,000 troops left. This force included a mix of Orcs, Trolls, Wargs, Easterlings, Haradrim, Oliphants, and Umbari (although the fleet of Umbar was sunk by the Gondorian Navy, most of the Umbari troops marched over land with the Haradrim).

This army was initially led by Commanders Krash and Lunk, although following the Battle Of Osgiliath, they were demoted and sentenced to execution for their perceived role in the disaster that took out a chunk of the army. Then the Witch-King himself took charge of the entire army.

Against this mighty force, Minas Tirith had about 15,000 Gondorian soldiers, with about 10,000 Rohirrim en route. The UN sent their two Marine squads, Bravo and Charlie, to assist, along with Falcons, and a Valkyrie Shuttle kept on standby as a last resort.

The Mordor Army marched on the city walls, taking heavy losses from Gondor's artillery bombardment. Many were also held up by the various barbed wire lines and trenches dug by the Gondorian army. Thanks to the trenches, it was difficult for the Orcs to get their siege engines into place, and Mordor's own gunpowder artillery was at a severe disadvantage as Gondor's were placed on top of the walls, and had better range and accuracy. That, and Gondor's artillery was manufactured by The Company™, based on 19th century technology though made with 22nd century-level precision engineering, while Mordor's cannons were much more primitive, more akin to Renaissance / Early Modern Era cannons.

The one exception was Grond, an enormous cannon (reforged from an old battering ram and infused with various magics) designed to launch gigantic cannonballs (also infused with dark magic). Fortunately, though the cannon itself was undamaged from Gondor's return artillery barrage, the crew manning it weren't so much.

Meanwhile, Fireteam Bravo deployed into the thick of the battle, equipped with four SAMSON powered exosuits, while Fireteam Charlie deployed onto the walls, using long-range weapons like anti-materiel rifles and missile launchers to hold off the forces converging on the wall. Fireteam Bravo took out the Haradrim's Oliphants by either taking them down with heavy weapons (autocannons or rockets) or else shooting them in the eyes with machine guns, driving the beasts mad and causing them to run amok.

The 10,000 Rohan cavalry arrived midway through the battle and charged in from the north, slamming into the Mordorian army's right flank. Around this time, the Witch-King Of Angmar attacked Fireteam Bravo. Pvt. Caldwell was KIA when, wounded by a Ringwraith, he set the overheated power cells on his SAMSON suit to self-destruct. Kyra, meanwhile, dueled and eventually killed the Witch-King Of Angmar, although she was WIA in the process.

In spite of everything - the artillery, the Gondorian rifle volleys, the Marines' attack, the charge of the Rohanian cavalry, etc., which inflicted grievous losses on the attack forces and sent many others retreating - Mordor still had at least 100,000 troops remaining on the battlefield, all being held in reserve. At this point, with the defenders nearing exhaustion and running low on ammunition, Inspector Lynn decided to authorize an orbital strike and called out for all allied forces to retreat into the city and take cover.

The Valkyrie shuttle in orbit had been equipped with several solid tungsten rods. When released, each one would plummet through the atmosphere, gaining immense velocity and heat and eventually striking the ground at over 8 km per second, wreaking immense damage on anything and everything within the immediate area. These destructive weapons also posed a significant threat of collateral damage to Minas Tirith as well (at the very least, the shockwave from each impact would be enough to break glass and dislodge masonry within the city), which was why they were considered only as an absolute last resort.

However, while the Allied forces were in the process of evacuating the battlefield, observers noticed that the Mordor army had stopped advancing. And then, a Fell Beast was seen flying towards King Theodred and Kyra Lynn's position. At first, they thought it was another Ringwraith. It turned out to be Commanders Krash and Lunk, the two Orcish leaders who were sentenced to death. They had escaped from their captivity and now, with the Witch-King gone and the Mordor Army's chain of command in tatters, stepped forward to take command. It seems that despite what the Witch-King thought, many in the army were still loyal to Krash and Lunk, as they had built up good rapport with the troops over the length of the campaign through Ithelien.

 **Aftermath** :

The two Orcs known as Krash and Lunk have agreed to negotiate a truce - for now. It seems that these two individuals were the ones in command of the Mordorian forces for much of the campaign, and have taken command of the remainder of the army while peace talks are underway. Negotiations with Krash and Lunk have revealed... interesting insights into Orcish behavior and mindsets, as well as a recognition on The Company™'s part that perhaps they can, under some circumstances, be negotiated with after all.

Unfortunately, while Krash and Lunk hold command of Mordor's field army, Lord Sauron still controls the actual land of Mordor itself, as well as the rest of Mordor's population, industry, and army. A quick observation and calculation of Mordor's remaining population leads The Company™ to conclude that Sauron still commands considerable military force at his disposal, and could easily and relatively quickly raise a new army to replace his losses at Minas Tirith. Moreover, while Krash and Lunk seem committed to a Middle Earth Peace Process, Sauron most definitely will not. Therefore, additional steps will have to be taken.

The report finishes off by mentioning that two classified operations are underway: a secret mission undertaken by the Nexus-8 unit known as VIDI, and the secret delivery of a certain package recently dispatched from Lucifer Station...


	89. One Does Not Simply

**One Does Not Simply...**

 **Frodo:**

After a long trek across Mordor, the Fellowship finally arrives at Sammath Naur. By then, the Fellowship is down to Sam, Frodo, and a third person (I haven't decided which one, though maybe the readers can choose. Be warned: this character is going to die - and hence, therefore, why this 3rd person should be a Fellowship member who is well-liked, in order to make their death have a bigger impact on the reader).

Frodo takes a minute to reflect on the events of the last few days. After leaving the Anduin River, the Fellowship pressed eastwards, towards Cirith Ungol. There, they crossed the path over the mountains (encountering Shelob along the way, although little problem for the Fellowship since Legolas and Tauriel are experienced in killing Mirkwood Spiders, and they also have, Gimli, and so on with them. I mean, if just Sam, alone, kicked Shelob's ass in OTL, then having almost the entire Fellowship must be overkill, right?). They then pressed on over the plains of Gorgoroth, towards Mt. Doom.

On one hand, crossing the plains is somewhat easier than in OTL, as there are far less Mordorian troops present (because Sauron sent a much larger army in the campaign against Minas Tirith than in OTL). On the other hand, there are still so many Orcs present that the Fellowship is forced to make the difficult decision to split up in the hopes that one group can distract the Orcs away from the others. They split up into three groups, with one of these groups being Frodo and Sam together with a third person (again, undecided on who this third person should be; I'll let the reader fill in this blank).

That was several days ago, and Frodo hasn't heard from any of the two other groups since then. But what matters is that at long last they have arrived at the destination.

Frodo, Sam, and [3rd person] arrive at Sammath Naur, and prepare to throw in the Ring. Frodo is suffering from the Ring's influence, making it extremely difficult for him to do what they have come all these way for, even when exhorted to by Sam and [3rd person]. And then, the three of them are attacked... by **Christopher Tremblay!**

Chris attacks the small band of heroes with a gun, killing [3rd person], and then overpowering Sam and Frodo and taking possession of the Ring. Sam is left laying wounded from the fight, while Frodo gets pushed off the edge overlooking the magma chamber. Frodo manages to grab the cliff edge and hold on for dear life, looking down at the lava bubbling and boiling below him, while above him, Chris stands triumphantly on the edge of the cliff, The One Ring in his hands. For extra villain points, maybe Chris is openly taunting and mocking Frodo, even stepping on Frodo's hands to try to make him let go.

Just put yourself for a moment in Frodo's mind: he has never seen a Sky-Person before, even though he has heard so much about these strange people from another world and their great power. And now he finally sees one for himself, as well as also seeing and hearing a gun for the first time, seeing what it can to do [3rd person], and it must be terrifying to him! And now imagine that if the Ring can corrupt the mind of someone as innocent and well-meaning as even Frodo, imagine what it can do the twisted mind of someone like Christopher Tremblay.

Just then, when all hope seems lost, VIDI arrives at the scene. Frodo and Sam see her and think she must be an Elf (because VIDI is still in her undercover Elf costume). Chris, of course, recognizes VIDI and panics, knowing who and what she is. He fires his gun at her, but to no effect as VIDI advances on him. VIDI proceeds to break Chris's arms and legs, and Chris screams in pain as a sickening crunch is heard. She grabs The Ring from Chris, and then... she throws The Ring into the magma.

Wait, what just happened? Am I reading this right? Did VIDI just throw the One Ring into the lava pit?

Well, there's no time to think on that, because all of a sudden, there's a rumbling sound, the ground starts to shake violently, and the volcano start to erupt!

VIDI leaves the wounded Chris where he is, leaving him to die in the ensuing volcanic eruption. Instead, she scoops up the injured Frodo and Sam in her mighty arms, and carries them. She carries them out of the cave just in time. Outside, there's a waiting shuttle (again, just imagine what's going through Frodo's head as he sees this thing for the first time!) and she takes them onboard, and then they lift off.

As they fly off into the sky, below them, Mount Doom explodes into a massive volcanic eruption (we're talking easily Krakatoa-level here), while all the land around it shakes violently in a series of earthquakes.

It's all over now... or is it?

* * *

 **AFTER ACTION REPORT:**

 **Showdown At Sammath Naur**

 **Outcome** : decisive The Company™ victory; Artifact Zero acquired for Company™ research.

 **Summary** :

This battle report reveals that there is one final twist to this story: the Ring was not destroyed after all!

You see, the Ring that VIDI threw into the magma pit was a decoy meant to fool everyone; the actual One Ring was kept by VIDI and quickly flown away to a Company™ research lab on another planet. The volcanic eruption of Mount Doom was caused when The Company™ detonated a nuclear bomb that VIDI had planted somewhere deep underground earlier. It's all rather complicated, so just bear with me as we go over the details.

Some readers may recall that back, long time ago in The Prologue, when the _Horizonte_ first entered the EE System, several of the scientists noted the existence of a network of major geological fault lines spanning underneath the entire landmass of Mordor. The Company™'s geologists determined that a sufficiently powerful nuclear device (like those seen inside the cargo hold of the _Belo_ _Horizonte_ in an earlier chapter), detonated in just the right spot, would trigger a conflagration that would result in a series of volcanic eruptions and mega-earthquakes. (Has anyone here ever seen the 1978 Superman movie? The one where Lex Luthor tries to sink California by detonating a nuke in the San Andreas Fault? Yeah, something like that).

Thus, as the War Of The Ring drags on, at some point, The Company™ considered using this tactic to break the back of Mordor's war effort. The only problem was that the UN would never approve of an operation like this, and it would be difficult, if not impossible, for The Company™ to smuggle a nuclear device onto L5 aboard one of the frequent shuttle flights to and from the colony without the UN noticing.

On the other hand, the regular shipments sent out to Lucifer Station did not have nearly as tight security, and so it was much easier to smuggle a nuke out to Lucifer Station and keep it there, with special orders for the crew out on Lucifer. Back in the Chapter "The Event Horizon", there was a scene set on Lucifer Station where the crew receive an order to use the mass driver to launch something to specific coordinates. What they were sending was a nuke, which would be sent just after yet another shipment of starship fuel, so that it wouldn't be easily detected.

The nuke was presumable encased inside some kind of delivery system that would enable it to survive the long voyage through space, followed by atmospheric reentry (kind of like the reentry capsule on manned spaceflights), and it would not be armed, as the arming codes were kept separate for safety reasons. Instead, VIDI was given the task to head over to where the nuke landed, retrieve the warhead, and then carry it to its final destination and arm it. (Which means that either this is a very small and compact warhead, or else VIDI just is _that_ strong that she can pick up a nuclear bomb and carry it by herself!).

It's also worth mentioning here that, as some readers may recall that earlier in this story, Bran Stark had a series of prophetic visions. One of these visions foretold of VIDI delivering and then detonating the nuclear bomb. (Some of Bran's other visions have also come true, albeit, in abstract and indirect ways. For example, when Bran dreams of "the sea rising to wash over the grasslands", what he was foreseeing was the UNCDF dropping saltwater on the Isengard army during the Battle Of Westfold).

While VIDI was busy planting the nuke at the precise coordinates she was given, she detected Chris Tremblay's presence nearby (again, using the powerful thermal scanners that Nexus-8 units are equipped with). She followed him.

After his cover was compromised, Chris fled Minas Tirith. One of the items he took with him was a special "Lynx" electric offroad motorcycle (it's standard practice for a Falcon shuttle to carry two of them for ground transportation; remember, for example, Fred and VENI's mission to Vaes Dothrak back in Book1). Taking the bike is how Chris was able to cross hundreds of miles between Minas Tirith and Mount Doom in only a few days, and arrive just after Frodo did (even though Frodo left Osgiliath at least several days or possibly a couple weeks before Chris did).

But why did Chris go to Mordor at all? Well, the report doesn't have a concrete answer, only speculation as to how Chris found out about the Ring. It's possible that Chris may have interrogated several Gondorian soldiers about the Fellowship (remember that he killed several Gondorian soldiers before he fled Minas Tirith; maybe he tortured one of them). Alternatively, we know that Chris was present at Isengard, and may have somehow gotten access to Saruman's writings as well as seeing the ring that Saruman made for himself; it's even possible that Chris got access to the Palantir and may have been contacted by Sauron himself. Yet another possibility is that since Chris was in contact with Sauron's army (it was he who informed them when to cross the Anduin to avoid interception by the Gondorian army). In the end, all of this is just speculation, and I'll let readers decide for themselves what truly happened.

Whatever it is, Chris took the bike and drove off towards Mordor.

Chris entered Sammath Naur, and VIDI followed him. She found him locked in a battle with several Hobbits, which VIDI found unusual, but then reasoned that if there are Hobbits here in the middle of Mordor, then something special must be going on. Indeed, VIDI observed that the object of dispute was a Ring of some kind (officially designated "Artifact Zero"), that VIDI reasoned must be some kind of highly thaumic artifact. She could recall mention of the Rings Of Power in the archives from Minas Tirith, as well as mentions of it in some of the writings taken from Saruman's laboratory. Whatever this object is, it must be of great interest to The Company™'s scientific purposes!

Thus, VIDI attacked Chris and rescued the Hobbits. During the fight, she took Artifact Zero from Chris, and then quickly substituted her own ring (which she carried with her as part of her Elven costume) and threw it into the magma pit; in the heat (literally) of battle, it would be easy for the others to mistake an ordinary ring for Artifact Zero.

After overpowering Chris, VIDI then remotely detonated the nuke. As mentioned above, the nuke was planted in just the right spot that the shockwaves generated by the explosion would interact with (and get amplified by) the network of geological fault lines lying beneath Mordor, thus triggering a massive earthquake clocking in at 9.4 on the Richter Scale. The earthquakes triggered Mount Doom to erupt, and VIDI carried the two surviving Hobbits out to a waiting shuttle that had been sent out to retrieve her.

The report goes on to mention that Artifact Zero has been safely removed from Planet EE-L5's "Thaumosphere" (the "aura of magic" that surrounds the planet) and hopefully this will sever its connection to its original master, though it should still be treated carefully. It has since been sent to the Outpost B Thaumic Research Facility out on Planet EE-L4 for safe-keeping.

The report finishes off by observing that the geological conflagration was much more powerful than their computer simulations had anticipated, as well as observing a spike in the planet's natural thaumic activity around the time that the eruption took place. The report goes on to speculate that perhaps something _within_ the planet itself helped enhance the destructive magnitude of the earthquakes. The report wonders if perhaps there exists an incredibly powerful thaumic energy being inhabiting within the planet itself, and also mentions the Gaia Hypothesis.*

*(I'll just go ahead and admit it: the final paragraph included in the report was a bit of an author's excuse on my part in that just in case readers found it absurd that a nuclear bomb could trigger a magnitude 9.4 earthquake and volcanic eruption, I could always just argue that it was Eru Iluvatar (i.e. _**me**_ , the writer) who intervened and made it so that one little bomb could indeed cause the eruption of Mount Doom).


	90. Epilogue

_**Writer's Notes:** at long last, we've reached the end (kind of). The Epilogue chapter is always a long one, as there's so many things going on; had the full story been written, this epilogue that you are about to read would probably have been broken up into two or three smaller chapters (it's nearly 3,000 words, so assuming an average conversion rate of 1:5 between "synopsis chapters" and full "prose chapters", the complete Epilogue would have been about 15,000 words)._

* * *

 **Epilogue  
**

 **Boromir**

It's a bright sunny day on Minas Tirith. The courtyard is packed full with people. Boromir, Steward Of Gondor, is still limping, but doing much better after his injuries from Osgiliath. But that doesn't bother him at all. Instead, he proudly holds in his hands a crown. And then, to great fanfare, he lowers the crown down onto the waiting head of Aragorn, crowning him as King Elassar Of The Reunited Kingdoms Of Gondor And Arnor.

Pretty much everyone who was someone throughout the whole Middle Earth arc is present: Jonathan Teller, Angela Cheong, Kyra Lynn, Steve Lynn, Gandalf, King Théodred, Éowyn, etc.

And yes, even Krash and Lunk too are present. For their part in ending the war and negotiating a peace settlement, they have been granted amnesty and installed as puppet rulers of the now rump state of Mordor (with Gorgoroth destroyed during Mt. Doom's eruption, "Mordor" as a political entity has pretty much collapsed and is now reduced mainly to the various Orc bands and warlords controlling the lands of Nurnen, which are slightly more hospitable).

After the crowning, as different guests come forward to present their regards and gifts to the new king, Krash and Lunk get delayed for a bit, as Lunk got distracted stuffing his face with food from the buffet table and making a mess.

* * *

 **Frodo:**

After the coronation, the festivities continue on into the night. Frodo meets Gandalf and asks him what they're going to do now. Gandalf, however, warns Frodo that their adventure isn't over it, and he explains that he has had visions, possibly Eru Iluvatar itself communicating with him. He concludes by saying there is much work still to be done for him. Frodo frowns. He wants to believe that it's all over, wants to believe that he saw VIDI throw the ring into the magma, but deep down, he has a feeling that it's not over.

* * *

 **Jan:**

Now that the UNSV _Joseph_ _Conrad_ has finally arrived with additional reinforcements, some of the Marines who first came on the _Belo_ _Horizonte_ are allowed to take a brief leave of absence and a well-deserved rest. Jan Adamsen is sitting at a new outdoor cafe that's opened at Crimson Equinox, in anticipation of the arrival of the colonist wave. It's a nice little place, and the coffee they serve is pretty decent (the _Conrad_ brought several dozen tons of coffee from Earth to replenish the colonies' dwindling supplies, as well as allow The Company™ to finally start opening "StarBux" coffeeshops at all their colonies!), but what's really on his mind is someone he's supposed to be meeting.

Kyra Lynn enters the cafe, looking a little disheveled and tired from the last few months on L5, but otherwise she still looks as angelic and beautiful in Jan's eyes as he remembers her. She sits down with him and they have a chat, talking about... stuff.

First, they talk about Phil, who died during the first raid on Isengard, and they talk about Jeff Caldwell, who perished during the Battle Of Pelennor Fields. They talk about Abigail Flanagan and the Dark Elves, Tz'arkan The Daemon, Saruman and the slave women rescued from Isengard.

And then, they decide "fuck it" and kiss openly, right there in public.

* * *

 **Miranda:**

Over at Beautiful Horizon, Miranda Riversong is grieving over what happened to Abi. On a hillside overlooking the sea, at sunset, she holds a small candlelight funerary service for Abi. The funeral is a simple and silent affair, just Miranda herself, joined by Dino and Max, Jonathan Teller, Angela, Sgt. Rico, and a few other people from the colony. Dino and Max in particular are especially upset - with Abi killed and Chris turned traitor, their little friend group is down from 5 to 3. But they do their best to console Miranda as she breaks down sobbing.

They leave a small memorial to Abi, a little gravestone with her name, decorated with a photograph of Abi as she was in life, as well as flowers and a small Elven brooch that Miranda got while she was at Isengard. The small grave overlooks the sea, and the sun is setting, casting a beautiful orange light over the entire colony, and over the grave of Abigail Flanagan.

* * *

 **Django:**

At Crimson Equinox, an important meeting is being held. Saito and Müller chair the meeting, although Django is present as well, having insisted on it, even though he's still recovering from his ordeal with the Dark Elves. They discuss pressing matters: the security of the colony, further developmental and military aid to the Empire and other possible native allies (Kislev and the Dwarven Kingdoms in particular), as well as the ongoing research into thaumic energy. It is mentioned that Dr. Savage and Hyneman are over at L4 right now, testing out the new "Thaumic Higher Energy Laser" (THEL) project, one of The Company™'s first major breakthroughs in attempting to fuse science and magic.

They also discuss the possibility of several personnel transfers - now that they will be establishing a colony on L3. It is mentioned that CEO's orders have come in that Dir. Fred Kovacs will be transferred over to L3 to assume co-directorship with Ryan Chang (a new person who came in on the _Conrad_ ), and that several other personnel from L4, L5, and L0 are all being considered for transfer to L3. In addition, it is mentioned that there are concerns over Miranda Riversong's ability to maintain her competent performance in the wake of Abi Flanagan's death, so a transfer is also being considered for Miranda.

After the meeting, Django leaves the command center and heads on over to the Biomedical Center to meet the staff there. He insists on meeting Cristina in person. He's taken up to her room, where she's still recovering, choosing to work from her bed. He sits down by her bedside and talk about stuff. They talk about Bran, who has decided to stay here on L0. They talk about Jan and Valten too. They also talk about Aurelia, the Elven woman who was brought to their colony, and the possibility of sending a mission to Ulthuan. And they talk about Abi.

All of this conversation proves to be difficult for both of them, as Django and Cristina are both still very distraught and upset from their experiences aboard the Black Ark. They end the scene embracing one another tightly, though whether it's for comfort in these hard times, or there's something else going on, well, I leave that to you, the reader, to decide.

* * *

 **The Emperor:**

Emperor Karl Franz is at Salkaten, watching as Imperial troops set about the task of repairing the town as well as helping the slaves and prisoners rescued from the Dark Elves. Many of them are former Imperials, although it is uncertain if any of them still have homes to return to (seeing as many of them were abducted years ago). The Company™ and the UN have offered a lot of medical supplies and food and other supplies, but eventually the freed slaves will have to be settled down somewhere. The Emperor wonders about the new "workers' towns" The Company™ is talking about building, as well as this new thing called "railroads" that The Company™ have shown him, complete with a new "Imperial Locomotive Works" to be built soon enough.

The Emperor stops to speak with Valten and to Brother Ulryk. Poor Valten lost a hand in the battle with Tz'arkan; he has since received a cybernetic hand as a replacement, although he is still getting used to it. Moreover, it's implied (though not explicitly stated) that Valten is upset and coping with the revelation that maybe Karl, not Valten, is Sigmar Reborn after what he witnessed during the battle. Valten spent years in Luthor Huss's retinue, being told that he was destined to be Sigmar Reborn, and even though he was always reluctant about it, still, to have that great honor taken away from him is difficult for him to cope with.

Ulryk, meanwhile, seems to have come around somewhat, after having seen the Emperor take out Tz'arkan. When we first saw Ulryk, he was a fanatically devoted follower of Luthor Huss, but now he seems to have lightened up considerably.

The Emperor is respectful and expresses his appreciation for what Valten and Ulryk accomplished during the battle (even if Valten did get his ass handed to him), but then asks where Huss is. When Ulryk tells him of the latest he heard of Huss's whereabouts, The Emperor thinks to himself that there may be internal trouble for The Empire ahead as the traditionalists inevitably clash with the more pro-modernist factions.

* * *

 **The TEC:**

At the TEC's secret headquarters, nestled deep within Olympus Mons on Mars, the TEC council convenes yet again. They discuss the information they obtained from Mr. Fukushitsu and his current status (hint: it is not very good), as well as their plans for the EE System and other similar star systems known to have thaumically active habitable world on them. (And yes, there are other inhabited worlds out there in this universe, just out in different star systems. But that's another story).

The purpose of TEC's introduction in this story was to set them up for a greater role in future storylines moving forward, as well as to hint that TEC may indeed be actively worshiping a being who may or may not be one-and-the-same with the Void Dragon in 40k lore.

* * *

 **Dominic:**

Dominic Kobori is lying down on the beach, relaxing. Ellen Kovacs is lying down next to him. The waves are crashing upon the shore, and there's a light breeze blowing. Just then, Ellen's phone buzzes. She checks it and sees a message. She shows it to Dom. Dom doesn't describe what the message says to the reader, only that a new matter has come up that requires their urgent attention. He abruptly gets up, and the entire beach around them flickers and disappears - turns out it was all just one big hologram!

Dom and Ellen leave the hologram room, and quickly get dressed up again. Ellen opens up a panel on the wall to reveal... a weapons rack, loaded with all kinds of cool cyberpunk weapons and gadgets. Dom and Ellen load up on guns and ammo, close the weapons rack again, and then they get into the elevator. Ellen sneaks a quick "good luck" kiss before the elevator doors close, and they're off on their next mission.

Where are they going? Are they going after another saboteur in The Company™? A lead on who Mr. Fukushitsu was working for? Are they heading to another city, or to a different planet, or hell, even another time or universe? Who knows? Point is: it's a new mission, and the adventure continues.

* * *

 **Demetria:**

Demetria Raskalnikova arrives at a boot camp where The Company™ is training its new "penal legion". It's located in Kislev, on land that the Tzarina has granted to The Company™ for establishment of a satellite colony. It's also the ideal training grounds for their new mercenary army.

She and the rest of her team stride onto the field and take a good look at the new recruits assembled before them. The recruits are a motley collection of former slaves rescued from the Dark Elves, young men from Kislev and The Empire who are seeking adventure, as well as some of the lowest scum and lowlifes gathered together you can imagine. Astute readers will even recognize one man standing among them as having a physical appearance that matches someone from the Epilogue of Book1.

Demetria grins as she takes charge of doing what they were hired to do: to take these good-for-nothing thieves and whores and whip them into shape, into a proper army!

* * *

 **Arjun:**

Arjun Kumar awakens from his slumber. This is a character who first appeared back in Book1 living in the slums of Mumbai, when he and his family won the lottery to be selected for a special opportunity for a new beginning.

Arjun and his family are aboard the _UNSV Joseph Conrad_ , and they have just arrived in the EE System. All around them, other Masrani Corporation staff are waking up from cryosleep, all dressed in bright orange jumpsuits decorated with the Masrani logo.

Arjun and his wife Devi head to the briefing room, where they are told that their new home will be in a sector of Planet EE-L5 called "The Shire". Masrani has purchased the colonization rights to this area of the planet from The Company™, and they intend to establish colonies in this sector. Arjun, Devi, and their children are excited to finally be seeing their new home.

* * *

 **Sauron:**

The lands of Mordor. If you thought they looked bad before, they look even _worse_ now! The earthquakes have opened up massive fissures in the ground throughout the plains of Gorgoroth. The volcanic eruption has covered much of Gorgoroth with rivers of lava. The great tower of Barad-Dur lies in smouldering ruin once again.

The reader's attention is drawn towards a seemingly insignificant pile of rubble. Just then, the rubble starts to shake a little, and a hand pops out from under. A human hand. Horrifically scarred and cut and burned and rotting, but very much alive and moving. And then, the hand slowly starts to heal itself; the wounds close up, and soon enough, the hand looks almost normal.

And then, the rest of the body emerges from under the rubble. And we see that the hand belonged to... **Christopher Tremblay!**

Except it's not quite Christopher Tremblay at the same time. What happened, as far as we know, is as follows: The Ring was not destroyed, but it was taken out of the planet's "thaumosphere". It's still out there, but its connection to this world has been severely weakened, and Sauron along with it. But Sauron still has a few tricks up his sleeve. Let us not forget that Sauron at one point went by the name "Necromancer"; what happened here is that Sauron came upon the dying and broken body of Christopher Tremblay, and has now possessed the body and Chris's soul for his own.

Sauron has suffered another setback similar to the War Of The Last Alliance: he has been severely weakened, but he's not dead. But now that he has possessed Christopher's body, he is determined to look for his Ring, even if it means leaving this very world itself to search for it.

Sauron / Christopher (Sauristopher?) is still in pain, still adjusting himself to suit this new body. His mind is blurry and swimming with random images as he tries to adjust to Chris's mind - these images include some of Chris's memories and knowledge, Sauron's own memories from over the millennia, and other images too that he can't quite recognize. For example, Sauron sees vivid images of dragons and wolves swallowing up the world but can't seem to tell if it's fragments of his own memories back to the First Age mixing up with those of Christopher, or a vision of the future, or something else entirely. At least some of his visions seem similar to those seen by Bran Stark.

Sauron / Christopher closes his eyes again to flush the visions out of his head for now, and this time sees the world more clearly. Yes, this body is weak and pathetic, but it will have to do for now. He knows not where his precious is, only that it is out there beyond this world, that someone has it, and he is determined to get it back.

* * *

 **Tzeentch** :

And of course, who else should have the final say in this book? Somewhere in the Warp, the Lord Of Change is smiling and rubbing his hands together in eager anticipation as he begins plotting whatever will happen in the next book (with the implication that much of the events of _this_ book were the direct result of his machinations). Now that the "magic links" between worlds have been restored thanks to The Company™'s meddling, and are slowly strengthening with each passing day, he turns his attention to other worlds...

 **FINIS**

* * *

 _ **Writer's Notes:** and that's a wrap! But stay tuned. I'll do one last chapter which is more of a post-mortem analysis on what went wrong and how we're going to move forward from here, as well as address reader's questions, concerns, critiques, ideas, and suggestions. If any readers would like to have their voices expressed, now is the time to do so. Leave your comments and questions in the reviews or else send them to me as a private message, and I will do my best to address everyone's individual points.  
_


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